What Really Happened: Christine's Story
by Availre
Summary: What Really happened during Christine's years at the Opera House? Will Christine have the courage to choose the one she really loves?  Don't own "Phantom", please review, etc.
1. Beginnings

1

I was utterly appalled at the way Monsieur Leroux depicted each person in his book-for they were real people, after all. I, myself, was one of the main "characters" in his work. Monsieur Leroux was indeed very animated in his writing. Unfortunately, most of it was a farce. Merely put there to keep the reader turning the next page. I am going to tell you what happened over the course of the time, because I'll never forget it. Not one second, because it was the most riveting, exhilarating time in my life.

_I stood, gripping a bouquet of roses so tightly it hurt. I took a deep breath, but it did little to ease my frayed nerves. I refused to cry, no matter what happened. Madame Giry placed a hand on my back, nudging me forward ever so slightly. I reached out and placed the flowers on the coffin, walking back to Giry, who was the only mother figure I had ever really known. With the roses on the coffin, it began its descent into the ground. I couldn't stand to watch; that was my father! Why did he have to go? I still needed him, he couldn't have gone! But no, he was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. The realization stung me more than anything in my 14 year-old life ever had._

My dress rustled as I crossed the street to the Opera house. I looked up at the entrance, its magnificent beauty never failing to awe me, even after almost eight years. I briefly remembered walking up to it the first time when I was thirteen and the opulence of it was staggering. Daddy stood and looked with me for a minute or two and then led me op to the doors. I'd been living there ever since. Daddy had gotten a job as a stage hand with a man named Joseph Buquet. Of course, he fully intended to still play his violin. He always refused a job that wouldn't allow him the time to play. And it worked out doubly, because I was just old enough to be a part of the chorus.

A slight movement caught my eye, and I turned my head to see what it was. Nothing. My eyebrows furrowed with curiosity, and I thought to further investigate, but I decided against it. I had to find Meg! I went up the first flight of stairs to her mother's dressing room. The door was open, so I peeked in. No one was there. She must be with the ballet corps. I scurried down to halls and to a right into a room that smelled like perfume, with a tinge of alcohol. I wrinkled my nose slightly; the two scents did not make a good combination. I quickly spotted Meg and waved to her.

Meg was on the taller side for an eighteen year-old girl, but slim and graceful from years of ballet. She had green eyes and soft looking blond hair that had a slight wave to it and bounced when she walked. Waving back, she came over to me. "What's so important that you came looking for me?" she asked, leading me out of the range of the other dancers eager ears. I looked at her, smiling lightly, as if it were nothing.

"You remember that young man I befriended several years ago? Raoul? I saw him in the square today," I said excitedly. There was good reason for excitement, I felt. Raoul was very good looking, with his sandy brown hair and dark eyes. He had a strong jaw that was defined and masculine looking, and broad shoulders that fit his height. Let alone the fact that he came from a noble family.

"Really?" Meg asked. "Oh, the way you described him Christine, he must be a dream!" I blushed.

"Well..," I began, letting the sentence trail off, then began again. "We were certainly close friends when I was younger. But then I came here with Daddy, and Raoul went off somewhere else. His family never exactly approved of our friendship."

Meg's forehead creased slightly. "Oh, that's too bad." I shrugged. It was almost eight years ago, and I hadn't talked to him since. The young dancer's eyes wandered to the clock, and she gasped. "Oh, Christine, I almost forgot! The new managers are having a meeting, and they're asking everyone in the Opera house to attend! We'll be late if we don't hurry," she said, taking my hand and dragging me down the halls and, eventually, onto the stage where everyone was crowded around the managers, straining to see and hear.

"… and as your new managers, we are happy to present the Opera house's new patron, the de Chagny family!" said Richard, a short, chubby man with graying hair. I felt my heart beat faster. De Chagny was Raoul's last name. If his family was sponsoring the Opera, there was a chance that I would be seeing him more often. Even as I was thinking that, Raoul stepped forward to say something.

"My brother and I are pleased to be supporting the Paris Opera house, and are looking forward to the upcoming show," he said. His brother, Philippe, nodded in confirmation. Phillippe, the Comte, wasn't the most charismatic chap, leaving the public speaking to his younger brother. Because Raoul was charming, charismatic, and good looking, he was an ideal choice to represent their family, especially since both their parents had died.

I bit my lip slightly, hoping to catch Raoul's eye, but not really sure what I would do if I did. I could see him scanning the assembled group. I kept my eyes on him, despite Meg's excited chattering. He didn't see me, and I felt a twinge of disappointment. Meg was talking to me, and I finally focused my attention on her.

"Oh, having the de Chagny sponsoring the Opera will be just splendid! Oh, and that young man who spoke was so handsome!" Meg continued to talk all the way back to the dancers' room. I waited until she finished talking, just outside the dormitory. "Christine, you haven't said a word the whole time! Aren't you excited?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Meg, you've been talking the whole way back! How could I?" I smiled at her good naturedly, and she looked slightly embarrassed, but recovered quickly.

"Well?"

"Meg," I said, still laughing. "That young man _was_ Raoul!" Meg's face went wide then, and she gasped. I laughed again. I think Meg was actually speechless for a split second.

"Christine, you should have interrupted me for something like that!" she hit me playfully. I smiled again, still chuckling. I waved goodbye to Meg, and headed off to the chorus girls' dormitory. Rehearsal was about to start and I still had to get into costume.

I always looked forward to rehearsal. Well, anything really that had to do with music. It reminded me of my father, but not only that. It always brought me alive, and made my skin tingle. I loved to sing. I never really thought that I would make it past the chorus, but that was enough for me, just so long as I had an opportunity to sing, I was content.

Rehearsal went smoothly. We had just finished the choruses most complex number, of which there was much fuss over. The chorus master, George, pulled me aside for a brief moment into the far wing of stage right. "Christine," he said in an undertone. "I want to pull you out of the chorus."

"Why?" I said, nearly in tears. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, quite the opposite, Christine," he said. "I think you're ready for a small part." My heart pounded. "I'll have you sing a little later, I'm sure you're familiar with the part of Siebel, no?" I nodded conformation. Faust was a well known play, and Siebel was a familiar part to every chorus girl at the opera. It wasn't too complicated, but it was entertaining. George continued. "Since you'll no longer be a part of the chorus, you'll be awarded your own dressing room." He handed me the key. "It's the farthest one on the right. You may arrange it to suit your needs, and after rehearsal, move all your things into it… Your voice has regained its sparkle, Christine."

I nodded, smiling widely. My own room! And my debut! Nothing could have brought me down from that cloud of happiness at that moment. Wait until Angel found out. He would be ecstatic! Especially since he was hoping to have me debut in this particular production.

After rehearsal I put away my things in my dressing room, which was easy enough to find. I set my bags down and looked around the small area. There was a bed in one corner, along with a vanity and a long vertical mirror that was built into the wall. It fit me. It didn't matter that wasn't the biggest or the most grand. It was mine. After I set my things on my bed I went down to one of the underground cellars. It was three stories down. The cellar that I frequented was small and was without any windows, so it had to be lit entirely by candles. There was a small shelf on one wall that held a picture of my father, also surrounded by candles.

Each candle was already lit. Angel must have been expecting me, like he knew I would come. Of course, it seemed like Angel knew exactly what was happening in the Opera house at every moment of every day. I wondered how he did that. Maybe he really was an Angel. But no, he himself had said that he was only a man on their first meeting.

_ I lit each candle one by one, just weeks after Daddy's passing. My tears nearly snuffed one of the candles out, and I attempted to hold them back, but they just kept coming. I sat on the stone floor, gazing up at my father's picture, sniffling. "Oh, Daddy, why?" I asked forlornly. There was a shift in the atmosphere, and I was suddenly wary of being down in the cellar._

_ "What's the matter?" a soft voice asked, seeming to come from within the walls. "Why are you crying?" The voice was amazing, and even that was short-selling it. It was almost like a physical caress, yet it couldn't have been much older than I was. Maybe 17, 18?_

_ "My father just died," I said, feeling the tears well up in my eyes again. "And I miss him so!" I put my face in my hands, wanting to hide my tears from the unseen man. There was a pause._

_ "I'm sorry for your loss," he said. There was another long pause, and I had wondered if he had gone. "Are you living here at the Opera house?"I nodded. _

_ "Yes. Daddy was working here before he died. With M. Buquet," I replied, my curiosity now growing despite my grief. I looked around the room for the source of the voice, but to my young mind, there was nowhere the voice could have come from. My curiosity gave me courage, and I asked him. "Are you an angel?" Another pause._

_ "No, I am only a mortal," he said. I suddenly felt very stupid in thinking so, and with that, felt I should explain._

_ "I just thought that maybe your were the angel Daddy used to tell me about," I said. "He used to tell me about the angel of music. The angel of music visits every great musician at least once in his or her lifetime, giving them a great talent. Just before Daddy died, he said he would send me the angel of music. I just thought that maybe you were he."_

"_I see," was all he said. "What is your name?"_

"_Christine," I replied. "Who are you?"_

"_You may call me Angel," he said. I nodded. He didn't say anything more after that, and neither did I. I suppose after a time, he left. But the next time I visited my little alcove, there was a small stool in front of Daddy's picture._

I sat down on my little stool that angel had given me. "Angel?" I said asked, seeing if he was there.

"I am here," he said. "Congratulations on your part in Faust, Christine." His voice still sent shivers down my spine, it was so heavenly.

"Thank you, Angel," I said, smiling excitedly. "Although, I don't have a vocal instructor any longer because I'm not in the chorus," I said, biting my lip lightly.

"Christine, your birthday is coming up, yes?" Angel asked, and I nodded confirmation. "In about a week or so, if memory serves." I nodded again, not understanding where he was going with this. "Come here again tomorrow, Christine, and I'll have a surprise for you. An early birthday present, as it were."

My brow furrowed for a second, but then I smiled. "Really? Angel, that's too thoughtful," I said sincerely. Angel always seemed to be thinking of me. I did what I could for him, but he insisted the only thing he wanted from me was to sing. Of course I complied. Why wouldn't I? I loved to sing, and Angel loved to listen. The one time I had asked about him, his birthday specifically, he had gotten rather brusque and harsh, saying it wasn't important and not to ask again. I thought it rather odd, but didn't say anything more.

The next day arrived, and the time came when I was to meet Angel in my alcove. I scurried down there, taking care to make sure that I wasn't followed, as per Angel's instructions. No one ever had followed me down there before, and I didn't see why Angel showed concern about it this time, but Angel always had a reason for everything, and I trusted him.

Stepping into my alcove, I immediately saw a small table with a poetite box and a key upon it. Curious, I stepped toward it. There was a blast of cold air behind me. "Angel?" I called out.

No answer.

I turned around to see if someone was there. Seeing no one, I stepped toward the table, touching the box lightly, loathe to open it until Angel arrived. Attempting to distract myself from the box, I turned my attention to the key. It was small, silver, and wonderfully detailed. I picked it up, admiring it, and noticing that there was a chain attached to it, as if it were meant to be worn around the neck.

"Put it around your neck, Christine, and open the box," a voice directly behind me whispered. I whipped around; clutching the key, but no one was there. I came to the only conclusion I could- Angel had arrived. I obediently put the chain around my neck, and I could feel the cold metal of the key against my upper chest. I turned toward the table once more and lifted the lid off the box, looking intently at what was inside. Chocolates, intricately carved into roses. I smiled.

"Thank you, Angel," I murmured. I now noticed a piece of paper that was folded into quarters and slightly tucked under the box. Curious, I pulled it out and unfolded it. The script was elegant and bold, flowing from one letter to the next easily.

Christine,

Happy birthday. The key is to a door which will be made known to you tonight. The chocolates are because I know you love them. And as for the matter of a vocal instructor, I will be taking that role for now and helping you with your part of Siebel, as well as future roles. I look forward to our time together, but you must tell no one about our meetings.

Angel

I was ecstatic. There was no other word to describe my elation at that instant. I didn't care that I couldn't tell anyone. Angel was going to be my teacher, and I knew instinctively that he was better than any teacher I could ever ask for. He had sang with me only once before, because I had picked a well known duet. His singing voice was even more heavenly than his speaking voice, and it had held me to the spot, and I had sung as never before. I hoped that his teaching would help me to sing like that always.


	2. The Mirror

2

I sat in my dressing room that night, eating one of the chocolates that Angel had given me, when I heard him. "Christine." His voice was unmistakable, but I was surprised because I had never spoken with him outside of my alcove.

"Here I am, Angel," I said, standing. "What is it I should do?" I started to turn, but he stopped me.

"Be still, Christine," he said. "And close your eyes for a moment." I did as I was asked, standing as still as I could given my excitement, and closed my eyes. I heard a sliding, grating noise, and what sounded like someone stepping into the room, though I hadn't heard the door open. There was a rustling, because whoever had entered the room was moving. "You may open your eyes now," Angel said. His voice sounded strained for some reason, as if he were worried. I also noticed that it didn't have its usual echo, like it did when he had spoken to me just a moment ago for the first time in this room. Like it did every other time he spoke to me.

I turned around slowly, trying to brace myself for anything that might present itself to me. But I still wasn't prepared for what I saw. Angel was standing in the mirror, dressed in black, almost like funeral attire, with the only white in his clothing being the shirt that was underneath his ebony vest. He had a long black cape fastened to his shoulders, and it came down to almost the bottom of his shoes, which were also black. He was tall, but he wasn't extraordinarily skinny or large, either. He had a strong jaw, much in contrast to Raoul's softer one, and his eyes flashed a bright hazel. And he had a mask. It covered the right half of his face, covering all of his nose and the majority of his forehead, but not any of his mouth. It looked to fit snugly, but it was a stark white, and gave him a proud, aloof look, and also seemed to add to his dark foreboding clothing.

"Angel?" I asked, and he nodded. There was an awkward pause between us two for a moment before he recovered.

"Grab the key and I will show you the door that I mean. It is a bit of a journey, so it may take a while." I grabbed the key from my vanity and headed toward the mirror, looking up as I neared it, trying to see how it opened. "I will show you that in time," Angel said. I nodded trusting him. He offered me his arm, and I took it readily. This was my Angel, in the flesh. This was the man I had known for eight years, it shouldn't be any different now that I knew the man behind the voice. I looked up at him again, and he met my gaze. There were several conflicting emotions in his eyes, I could see, and one of them was… fear?

"I'm glad I can put a face to the voice now," I said as we stepped into the tunnel that lay behind the mirror, trying to soothe any uneasiness he might have. He stiffened. I didn't understand what I had done to make him angry, it was an innocent comment.

Angel was right, it was a long way to the door. About halfway there, I dared to attempt conversation again. "Should I still call you angel?" I asked. He stopped for a moment then before continuing on.

"You may call me Angel or, as the rest of the Opera calls me, Phantom," he said, casting a glance at me to see my reaction. I looked at him for a moment. He was the Opera ghost? I found that rather hard to believe.

For the past month or so at the Opera house, the ballet and the chorus girls had been talking about a ghost at the Opera house, which I had thought to be nonsense until then. A few people had claimed to have seen the ghost, while others still claimed that he had stolen something from them. Every mishap, large or small, was blamed on the ghost. Now, of course, I understood why there had been "sightings". I studied Angel then for a long moment. "Do you have a preference?" I asked him looking down at my shoes to ensure that I didn't lose my footing.

"Call me Phantom then, Christine," he said, seeming to resign himself to the idea. He seemed infinitely troubled and sad. Looking back, I noticed that his voice had always been tinged with sadness. It bothered me that someone who brought me such great happiness should be sad all the time. "It would be bad if you were talking to one of your friends about the Opera ghost and accidentally referred to him as Angel," he said sardonically.

We continued on in silence until we came to the door the Phantom had referred to in his note. When we reached it, he said, "You'll come through this door everyday for your lessons." He opened the door revealing a corner that I had passed many times on my way to and from the Opera house. It was dark out now, and no one was around to witness the door's mysterious opening."Make sure no one sees you come in or go out, if you can help it." I nodded. "Now I'll take you to my home for your first lesson so you know how to get there in the future." I nodded.

The walk to the lake was silent, and when we reached it, I let out a small gasp. "There really is a lake down here?" He nodded silently, stepping into a small boat, offering me his hand for assistance. I took it gladly; I had never been that comfortable on the water, I always thought the boat was going to sink. I took a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm myself about being on the water. Phantom raised an eyebrow.

"Is something the matter, Christine?" he asked, beginning to row across the lake. I shook my head.

"No, I've just never been very… comfortable in boats, is all." I threw him a shaky smile. Phantom seemed amused by this and I saw him smile for the first time.

"Well, I can assure you that this boat is secure," he said. "Because I built it myself."

I tried to take comfort in that fact. That and I assumed that he had travelled across this lake many times in this boat. I kept my hands in my lap and stared in the general direction that we were headed, occasionally glancing at Phantom. He had regained his stoic expression from what I could tell, being able to only see half his face.

All at once, I could see where we were headed. It just seemed to rise up out of the constantly swirling mist, a looming figure in the dark. It was a proud looking home, built entirely out of stone, and had only one window to speak of. I marveled at this for a moment, but Phantom began to say something and I turned my attention to him.

"I will wait for you on the other shore every day, so that you don't get lost or fall in," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was serious or joking. "Christine, are you afraid of me? Of this?" he asked quite suddenly, gesturing to his mask, and I was a little taken by surprise.

"Of course not, Ang- I mean Phantom!" I said. "It's just, after eight years of knowing only a voice, and then suddenly meeting the man that accompanies that voice, it's a little surprising, to say the least. Not that I'm sorry you've revealed yourself to me, because I'm really very happy you have."

Pulling up to the shore, he stepped out and held out his hand, which I denied, determined that I could make it off this boat by myself. Which I did, eventually. After standing up shakily and almost capsizing it with my wobbliness, I made it to shore, getting the hem of my dress wet. Not that I really cared whether or not my dress was wet at this very moment. I looked around with reverence at the scene before me. Never in all my years at the Opera Populaire had I seen a sight such as this.

His entire domain was devoted to music. All his tables were covered with reams of paper that had the grand staff on them. Everywhere I looked, I was astounded at the amount of music one could fit into a house. And the music room was even more devoted than the rest of the house. I had never, and have yet, to see so many different instruments in one room! There was a cello, piano, violin, bass, flute, and even a harp and more that I couldn't even name. But the one that held my attention was the large pipe organ. "How did you get it down here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper I was so overwhelmed.

"I have my ways," was all he said. It seems he had his "ways" about many things. Like how did he know anything and everything that was going on in the Opera house at the moment it happened? There were many things I didn't understand about Phantom, but I knew I trusted him. That was all that mattered. He was my friend, and now he would be my teacher. Life couldn't seem to get much better at the moment. Unless, of course, I saw Raoul again. That would certainly make it better.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I was here to sing, not think about prospective romances! I scolded myself mentally. Phantom must have seen my face because he asked, "Is something the matter, Christine?"

"No." I shook my head. "Just clearing my thoughts." I could tell he was a bit puzzled about what I would have to clear my head for by the way he arched his eyebrow.

"Well, I hope it won't distract you from our voice lessons," he said, pouring two glasses of water and handing one to me. I sipped it politely before replying.

"It won't," I replied. "If anything, music distracts me from everything else." I laughed, glancing at Phantom then. His face showed no sign of outward amusement, and I hoped I hadn't angered him. At the time, I didn't know it was him, but I had seen him terribly angry once before.

_ I was dressed in a skimpy chorus girl's outfit, standing on the left wing of the stage, watching La Carlotta sing. She hit the high note of the song so sharply that I cringed noticeably. The aria came to an end with a graceful instrumental finish, and the maestro nods to Carlotta, who proceeds to come off stage via the left wing, hitting me on the head with her fan as she passes by._

_ "Why were my instructions not followed?" demanded a loud, intimidating voice. "When will me new managers learn?"Everyone cowered slightly, for fear of the Opera Ghost's wrath falling on them._

_ "I told you there would be consequences, gentlemen, for not obeying my orders! Now you will truly know the Opera Ghost's rage!" There was a tensed silence then, and just when everyone thought that "the voice" was bluffing, something horrible happened._

_ There was a loud creak from above, and I could hear Meg shrieking loudly next to me. Carlotta seemed to caw as a sand bag nearly landed on her head. With that sand bag down, the backdrop for the play collapsed, covering several people with its canvas. I watched in horror as the wooden beam that was on top of the backdrop (for keeping it unwrinkled for a more realistic look) smacked Carlotta in the back of the head, knocking her over and presumably unconscious._

That was a few weeks ago. Before Raoul, before Angel became Phantom. Before my whole world began to change irrevocably.


	3. His Home

3

That first lesson down in Phantom's home my voice soared. I couldn't believe it, there was nary a complaint from Phantom, except for one qualm about me tightening my abdominal muscles when I'm holding out a note to make it steady. I felt like I was in a dream, the kind that you know can't go bad no matter what. The lesson finished, and Phantom served me supper, to which I was very surprised at, I'd never seen a man cook before, except for Daddy.

Supper was exquisite, despite the evident simplicity of it. The meal seemed to mirror what I knew of the Phantom. Simple in appearance, but so much more under the surface.

Of course I didn't realize the irony of that thought. Little did I know what would unfold in the coming hours.

I offered to help Phantom clean the meal, which he refused, saying I was a guest, and that I shouldn't work, it would make him a bad host. I sighed—the man's reasoning was practically impeccable! If I protested, I would most likely insult him and his hospitality. He had me cornered, so to speak, and so I complied and went into the sitting room. He came in a few minutes later and sat across the room in a large armchair. I looked at him, and he looked at me, and for a moment, there was silence, but then we both began to speak at the same time. I blushed.

"Please, you first," he said politely, gesturing for me to continue.

"You would think it silly," I protested, embarrassed for reasons beyond me.

"Nonsense! I take everything you say seriously," he said.

I nodded, sensing the sober tone in his voice. "I was going to ask if you knew any stories. I've always enjoyed listening to them," I said quietly.

Phantom looked at me for a moment, and then he spoke, "Very well, but it will be dark at the beginning, so you will have to listen to the whole thing in order to hear the happy ending." He looked at me then, as if he were making a business deal—just checking to make sure his terms were agreeable. I nodded my affirmation, as long as I got a nice ending, I would agree to listen to almost any tale. Then Phantom began, and his voice almost transported me right to the world he was speaking of.

**A/N: The next chapter will be Phantom's story, so it will definitely be longer than this one. There may or may not be some foreshadowing in it, so keep an eye out for bits and pieces. Also, I haven't gotten to the ending, so if there's anything you'd like to see in the story (even if it's Raoul bashing) let me know, I'll do what I can to fit it in. Plus, I haven't decided if Nadir's gonna be in here or not, so if you want him to make an appearance, say so!**


	4. His Story

**A/N: Ok, so this whole chapter's gonna be in italics because it's a story telling.**

4

_The hour was late, and a woman's screaming could be heard throughout the small, two story house. Her husband, Charles, was pacing the floor rapidly in front of the closed door of his wife's bedroom. She was in labor, and he was as nervous as all get out. She had been in there for eighteen whole hours. If she was in there for one more god-forsaken minute—then there was the sound of a baby crying. His baby, a son, hopefully, if fortune smiled upon him. He was already picturing himself teaching his son how to form intricate woodwork, when his wife screamed in terror._

"_Get that—that THING away from me! I won't touch it! No!" she was sobbing now, shrieking at whatever it was. Charles burst into the room, ready for whatever was going on. He expected to see his wife, Marianna, clutching the baby to her bosom to protect it from… whatever. What he didn't expect to see was his wife pressed up against the headboard, her face turned away from a small, bundle swathed in white cloth that was lying on the floor._

_Charles was angry at his wife for neglecting the child for whatever reason. He scooped it up off the floor, removing the scrap of cloth that was covering the infant's face._

_He very nearly dropped the child. The midwife, whom he hadn't noticed until now, said, "He's very healthy otherwise, sir. I best take my leave now. Your wife will be fine after a few days recovery."With that, she left that house as fast as she could._

_Charles returned his gaze to his son. His son's face was horrible, so much so that Charles felt he might be sick. There were horrible raises and indentations in the flesh on the right side of his face. It was red, but Charles hoped that it might go away in time, because as far as he could see, the whole baby was red and wrinkly. Perhaps as the babe grew less pink, his distortion would become bearable. But for now, he was as horrible as ever. His right eye was bloodshot but his eyes were a gorgeous hazel. His one beauty, as far as Charles could tell. His nose was completely gone, Charles noticed. Perhaps it would be better to kill the child. More merciful. But Charles couldn't bring himself to do that. He couldn't just end something's life that had just begun._

"_H—how can you bear to touch that thing, Charles?" Marianna asked timidly. Charles glared at her so viciously that she let out a whimper._

"_Because he happens to be our son, Mari!"_

"_Then you name him!" she snapped. "I refuse to have anything to do with him because I can't even bear to look at his face!"_

_Charles looked at the infant again, thinking. He settled on a name rather quickly. He had seen it once in a book he read. It had belonged to a villain, and he thought it suited the poor boy. He certainly couldn't name him anything Christian because no one, not even the church would accept him. "Erik," he said. "He shall be Erik… You should go to sleep, Marianna. You need your rest after the delivery." Marianna nodded meekly._

"_But put him in another room, Charles. Please. I won't be able to sleep."_

_Charles sighed resignedly and took Erik to the guest bedroom, cradling him, but careful to avoid looking at his face. He loved his son to a certain extent, but how could he love him if he couldn't look at him? It was all so screwed up, Charles thought darkly. What had they done to deserve this? How would they raise Erik? How could they raise Erik? Marianna would throw a fit and probably refuse to see the child, let alone feed it. __What could he do?__ Almost nothing. He couldn't give him to an orphanage, no, he'd never survive there. The only real option was to keep him. Charles sighed, and Erik opened his eyes. Never had the man seen eyes so deep. The hazel color seemed to draw him in. They were like Marianna's, only they held… intelligence? At so young it seemed improbable, yet the infant was very aware of his , he couldn't be intelligent, could he? Surely, with such a disfigured face, his mind would also be askew? But no, the child was indeed smart. That would make raising him all the harder, because he would eventually start to ask questions: Why is my face like this? Why doesn't Mommy like me? Why can't I play with the other kids? And eventually, as he grew older, "what did I ever do to deserve this?"_

_Charles' heart was breaking as he realized the kind of future his child would have. He was a compassionate man, and to know that he was the cause of so much future misery, it was almost unbearable. Charles set the child down in the intricate cradle, and went out to his workshop. He would craft the child a mask—as many as he needed as he grew older. Perhaps, without seeing his face, Marianna could learn to love the poor child, as a mother ought to._

_But, even with the mask, Marianna could not love the child, Erik. She tried her best, but the memory of the face was just too much for her. She avoided Erik to the best of her ability, but somehow she managed to nurse him. After he was weaned, though, Marianna avoided him completely, and she refused to have any more children, for fear that they would all come out like Erik. She spent most of her time either looking out the window or reading. She would only go out on Sunday's for church, wherein Charles would stay home with his son. Usually Erik would stay up in his room, not coming down until Mother came home, but one day, that changed._

_Erik was only two at the time, and he went down the stairs, not looking for anyone in particular. He was bored, and so, he decided to go and look at the great big thing with the odd shape that Papa called a piano. He struggled to pull the bench out, but got it in due time. He crawled up on the bench and poked one of the keys experimentally. He could talk and walk well by now, and it was clear that he was beyond normal intelligence. Erik itched his mask absent-mindedly. He didn't like to wear the leather covering, he complained that it was hot and itchy sometimes. Therefore, his father went out of his way to make him this mask, one that was of the softest and most breathable leathers around._

_Erik now recalled a melody that his Daddy would play on the piano sometimes, and Mommy would sing along to. If she was in a good mood, she would let Erik listen. Erik always listened anyway. It was just so pretty! Now, the two year old picked out pieces of the melody filling in spots he couldn't quite piece together._

_Undoubtedly, this caught his father's attention from another room, and Charles crept into the room to watch. When Erik paused, Charles smiled slightly and said, "That's very good, son." Erik leapt off the piano bench, crying and begging for forgiveness. Charles was confused. Why would Erik think that he wasn't allowed to touch the piano? Then it hit him—Marianna. But why wouldn't she let him touch the piano? Charles crouched down, his knees cracking. "Erik, I'd like to teach you a song," he said softly. Erik sniffled and looked up and his father, tears threatening to spill over again. _

"_You would teach me?"_

"_Yes, Erik, I would." Charles stood up and went to the piano. It took Erik a minute to follow him. Charles didn't object to Erik's company, but he never invited his son to come with him, either. Erik wasn't used to favored treatment. He hesitantly sat on the piano bench next to his father. Charles patiently showed him which keys to press, and when. But Erik was a quick learner, and soon had the song down before Marianna was even home from church._

"_Papa, don't you usually have paper in front of you when you play?" Erik asked, swiveling his head towards Charles._

"_Yes, I do, son," Charles said,pulling out the appropriate sheet music and setting it on the piano._

"_Wow," Erik said, peering at the notes and not really comprehending. "Is that the song? It looks a lot more complicated written down," he remarked. Charles laughed then, and the next few days Charles spent with Erik, who soon knew how to read music before he could even read books._

_By the time Erik was ten, he was fluent in the language of music, and was writing his own songs. He was also excelling in every lesson his mother put before him, whether it be reading, writing; it didn't really matter what Erik did, he was good at everything. He was even starting to have small conversations with his mother, though she was still immensely disturbed by him, but she enjoyed his company, so long as she didn't have to look at him. Charles spent more and more time making masks for Erik, because the boy was growing rapidly, and he was already as tall as his mother, who was 5'6". _

_Erik also soon discovered that he could sing and he enjoyed that activity more than any other, besides playing the piano. He would spend most of his time in the drawing room, where the piano sat, composing. Erik was content with his life, even though he knew he must never take his mask off, for fear of scaring mother. He was much more mature than a ten year old should have been, having sneaked a peek in his mother's mirror one night to see why he had to wear a mask. He had to bite his tongue to stop from screaming. It took him mere moments to realize that that was his face, and he grew to be just as afraid of it as his mother was._

_It was snowing outside, something which Erik had never particularly cared for; he found it too cold and wet. He had gone up to his room to be alone, when he heard shouts outside. He pulled back the curtain on his window a tad, to find his father arguing with a group of about fifty men, Marianna beside him. Erik decided to go downstairs and stand by his Papa—he was scared that something bad would happen. Erik had hardly reached the front door when the volume of the strangers' voices increased, and blows began to be struck. Marianna screamed, and Erik rushed outside. "Erik! Get back in the house!" she shouted. Erik didn't listen. A gun was drawn, and everything froze for a moment. The assailant hadn't been a very good shot, he was aiming for Charles, but he hit Marianna instead._

_Erik tried to reach his mother, but one of the men grabbed him, and Erik, doing something almost every child does at some point in time, but him. The man yelled and let go of Erik. Erik never realized that his mask had fallen off as the man let go. He reached his mother, stroking her face, crying and kneeling beside her. Marianna gasped, the blood pooling around her stomach._

"_Marianna!" Charles attempted to get to her too, but was knocked unconscious by the butt of someone's gun. _

"_Papa!" Erik screamed, wailing only as a child can. One of the men picked Erik up by the collar of his shirt, yelling as he saw the child's face. He cleared his throat._

"_Raymundo, we've got another attraction for our little fair," he said devilishly. He turned Erik to face a man, presumably Raymundo, who also let out a cry of horror. _

"_For God's sakes, man! Cover him up!"_

"_Please, my mask," Erik begged. "It's just over there." He pointed where the mask lay. One man picked it up and shoved it roughly onto Erik's face. Erik was blindfolded and gagged and thrown into the back of a wagon that started moving almost as soon as he was placed in it. Erik would spend the next 2 years with these people, whom he soon found out were gypsies, and he never learned that his father spent six years looking for him._

_After spending two years with the gypsies, Erik escaped, accidentally stumbling into a hidden tunnel in the city that the gypsies were performing in. he stayed there for a few weeks before daring to come out of hiding. He was starving, dehydrated, and completely exhausted. Luckily for Erik, someone with a kind heart found him and took him in, nursing him back to health. Erik grew fond of calling him Daroga._

_In his time with Daroga, Erik learned that he was in Persia, and he promptly got a job working for the Sultan. He had observed the gypsies and their tricks, and taken them to a new level. Daroga and some of his Persian acquaintances taught him how to defend himself—Persian style. Erik became a walking weapon, and he was always on edge, fearing that one day the Sultan might have no use for him any longer. After four years in Persia, the Sultan came to the conclusion that Erik knew too much, and should be beheaded immediately._

_Erik escaped then, and only because Daroga owed him a favor. So, Erik left Persia, and came to France. He spent a few years building a home, perfecting it to his liking. Erik met a girl in those years he was building, and they became good friends. She had no family, and she was lonely, trying to pursue her dream. Erik helped her, and she fulfilled her dream. During that time, Erik fell in love with the girl. Deeply in love. He knew he could ask her to marry him, for how could she love him when he wore a mask? How could she love him without the mask? He was so hideous underneath, he knew no one could love him. Not even his own mother could do that. No, Erik knew he was unlovable. Until the unthinkable happened. The girl told her she loved him. Erik was so overjoyed he thought he might die, but he didn't. He lived, and they were soon married, living together in peace, and Erik could finally put his past to rest._

**A/N: yeah, I know the end is a little vague, but this chapter would have been wayyyy too long if I had continued to go into detail. I just thought it was important that y'all know (my version of) Erik's past. Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading. **


	5. Tea

**A/N: So, this is gonna be a pretty intense chapter. Brace yourself for anger, tears, and Phantom being Phantom (which may or may not lead to problems, heh-heh.)**

I was stunned by Phantom's story. The agony that that boy had to go through just to be happy was awful. It scared me, but at least it had a happy ending. I thought I might like to meet that girl, thinking she must have a very tender and open heart. Up until that point, I had thought of myself as a compassionate person, but I wasn't sure if I could love someone with the face of a monster. I shuddered at the mental picture that Phantom had created of the boys face. Phantom noticed.

"Are you cold?" he asked, ever the gentlemen. "Perhaps the tale was too horrific for you?" He seemed to regret the decision of telling me that particular tale. I shook my head.

"No, Phantom, the story was fine. I rather enjoyed it…" I gave him a smile, but he didn't seem to believe me. He stood up, and my eyes followed him, wondering where he was going. He walked out of the room, and curious, I stood and followed him. I soon found out that he was in the music room, playing a rather melancholy tune. I stood in the doorframe, listening intently. He didn't seem to notice my presence, which I decided to take advantage of.

I walked towards him slowly, quietly. The sad melody almost bringing tears to my eyes it was played with so much emotion. I placed my hand on his left shoulder lightly, and he stopped playing immediately. "That was beautiful," I murmured. "But why do you never play happier melodies?" I felt him stiffen underneath me.

"Because I have no cause to," he said brusquely. "The hour is late, and you should probably go to bed and rest so your voice has adequate time to recover." I felt like he was trying to avoid conversing with me, but I nodded, realizing I was tired. Phantom showed me to my room, bid me goodnight, shut the door and went to his organ. How do I know he went to his organ? He started playing. That's right. Honestly, I couldn't believe the man. He sends me to bed, then starts playing the loudest instrument he has in his possession? Eventually, I did end of falling asleep with the organ playing, and my dreams were filled with his music. Most of his melodies were haunting, causing me to sleep fitfully.

I rolled out of bed, yawning in a very unladylike fashion, and went out in a robe that I found in the dresser. Phantom was still playing his organ, occasionally stopping to scribble some notes down on a piece of parchment. I watched for a moment, and then stepped over to him lightly, wondering if he had slept at all last night.

"Didn't you get any sleep last night?" I asked, standing behind him. He shook his head.

"No, I don't sleep if I can help it." My brow furrowed. Why wouldn't he sleep?

"Why?"

"Nightmares, mostly. And I also happen to think that it's a waste of time. I could be doing other, more productive, things while I'm asleep."

I chuckled. That sounded like something he would do. I placed my hands on his shoulders, sensing all the awkwardness of last night was gone. I felt him react to my touch, but whether it was in a good or bad way, I wasn't sure. I removed my hands from his person slowly and stood there, studying him for a long while. He began to play again, and I closed my eyes. His playing moved me in that instant more than anything in my entire life ever had. My hands moved unbidden to his neck and travelled up to his face, coming in contact with his flesh, and his mask. I never noticed that Phantom had stopped playing, so enveloped was I in my own little world of musical bliss.

I never realized I took off his mask.

The next thing that I was aware of was Phantom standing and shoving me off him and onto the floor. I hadn't seen his face, no, I was still in back of him with my eyes shut. He screamed at me furiously, and that frightened me. This was _not_ my Angel. This was the Opera Ghost. The Phantom. I was frightened that he might hit me; after all, I had seen him harm Carlotta.

"Why would you do such a thing, Christine?" His hand was covering his face. "Was the curiosity too much for you to bear? Did you have to know that face of your teacher? Well, here it is, in all of its horrible glory!" He thrust his hand from his face then, revealing a horribly red, mountainous disfigurement. This was the face of my Angel?

Something clicked in my brain then. The story he had told me last night that was his story. At least, the beginning was. The end was a dream—a hope. We were in the middle of the story now, when things were still dark and hopeless. I started to cry. I cried because I pitied him, and because I was afraid of his wrath. His face startled me. It didn't frighten me, but I didn't know if I could love that face, as he thought I could, like he portrayed me in the story. Because that girl was me, I had no doubt of that now.

"Angel," I cried, reaching my hand out to him. He didn't react at all. He just stood there, breathing heavily, glaring at me with contempt. "Oh, Angel, I'm sorry."

"Oh, of course you're sorry! They're all sorry after they've seen this monster of a man."

"I—" He didn't let me finish.

"Now you cannot ever be free! Damn you...! Curse you..!" He turned away from me, knocking over several things in his rage.

"Angel, please listen," I murmured. He turned back to me, his face covered once more by his hand. He gestured roughly for the mask, and I handed it to him, daring to continue. "It's not your face that I'm frightened of, Angel," I murmured. "It was your rage. I—You've never been mad at me before, and it scared me."

He stared at me dumbly for a moment, then recovered. "Bah! You're just saying that so you can go and be with that _boy!_" he practically spat the word out. "_Oui,_ I have heard you talking to Meg about your childhood friend Raoul, the Vicomte! I know you fancy him!"

I was speechless. Then, my anger gave my words that I would not have dared to speak otherwise. "How dare you spy on me! You're sick! Have you watched me dress?" This accusation astounded him. "_Have you?_" I stomped my foot for emphasis.

"Of course not! I would not compromise your honor!" He glared at me, and I glared right back. There was angry silence.

I stood up, dusting off my dress. Phantom seemed remorseful for what he had done, but I could tell he was still angry about the whole ordeal. Not that I really blamed him, but I would do my best to let it go, and hopefully things would be as back to normal as they could get. "I'll put the kettle on for some tea," I said quietly. "Would you like some?" I looked up at him, and he just nodded silently. I could tell that he was mulling things over in his brain. It was the first fight that we had ever had—but every couple has to get into a spat sometime, no? I chided myself mentally. Phantom and I were _not _a couple. It was strictly a friendship. I couldn't allow myself to think about such things right then, I had other more important matters—like the opera that I was to sing in.

The kettle started to whistle, and I pulled it off the stove. I poured two cups, placing a tea bag in each one. I added two sugar cubes to mine, leaving Phantom's as it was because I wasn't sure how he liked his. I walked into the music room, the two mugs in hand, to find Erik stooped over his organ.

"I brought your tea. I wasn't sure how you liked it, so I didn't add anything," I said. He didn't respond, or even acknowledge my presence. "Angel?" I asked, stepping closer to him.

"I am no Angel, Christine. I am a monster of a man. A gargoyle. A demon. Why would a good girl like you affiliate with a horrible man like myself?" he asked forlornly.

"Because, you're my dearest friend," I said, patting his back awkwardly. I thought I knew my Angel, but I didn't. I realized that he knew everything about me, but I knew nothing about him. "Come on, Angel, drink you tea before it gets cold." I handed him the cup, and he sipped it appreciatively. "Angel, do you really drink all that tea in your cupboard? You must have nearly thirty different kinds!" I exclaimed, attempting conversation. I took a sip of my tea.

Phantom looked at me for a moment then, seeming to appreciate my attempt at conversation. "Each tea has a different purpose. Some cure headaches, others can put you in a dreamlike state, and you won't remember anything from the time you took that first sip until the tea wears off. But Christine, you must never drink the tea out of the gold box. You'll sleep for days afterward." My face went pale.

"Angel…" I suddenly felt drowsy, and the mug slipped from my hand, and I heard the glass shatter, and then the world went dark.

I woke—I don't know how much later it was, but I was back in my room under the covers, and still… fully clothed? I smiled faintly. Angel and his morals. How could I have been so cruel as to suggest that he was stalking me? Watching me while I changed? I disgusted myself sometimes. I groaned halfheartedly and opened my eyes a peep. Phantom, I realized, was sitting in a chair across the room. He stood up upon hearing me groan, coming to my side instantly.

"Christine? How are you feeling?" he asked concernedly. I thought about this for a moment, then sat up slowly.

"Hungry," I said. My stomach decided to growl at that very instant. Phantom raised the one eyebrow that I could see.

"So I see," he said. "But it only makes sense; you were out for forty-two hours."

"What?" I shrieked. I had missed the first rehearsal! That was, undoubtedly, the most important rehearsal, aside from the dress rehearsal! I groaned. I had probably lost my part! Oh, no! What was I going to do!

Phantom seemed startled by my sudden outburst. "Christine, you mustn't shriek like that. You'll ruin your voice," he said matter-of-factly. I gave him an exasperated look.

"I've missed rehearsals," I rambled, swinging my legs out of bed. "I have to get back!" Phantom tried to interject, but as soon as I put my weight on my feet, my knees buckled and I fell straight into Phantom's arms. I blushed profusely, and Phantom helped me back into bed.

"You won't regain your full strength for another day, Christine," he explained quietly. "That was what I was trying to tell you."

"Oh." I said, thoroughly embarrassed. "Well, thanks for catching me," I murmured. He nodded.

"I'll make you something to eat, Christine," he said, standing.

"Wait," I said suddenly. He stopped in the doorway and peered at me curiously. "Erik… Is that your real name?" His face darkened slightly.

"Yes, it is," he said. I could tell that he was upset that I had interpreted his story correctly and had seen it for what it was—the truth. I had no doubts that it was the truth, because Erik (as I had decided to call him from now on) had never lied to me before. I still trusted him; how could I not? He was everything a friend should be, and that's all I could ask for. I couldn't help that we might get into spats; everyone does at some point or another.

I realized that I was drawn to my teacher, and in a way that I was afraid of. I knew that Erik must have cared for me while I was out of senses because of the tea.

"I didn't make you sick or anything, did I?" I asked, albeit a bit sheepishly. Erik laughed then. It was a musical sound, and it didn't sound funny like most peoples' laughs. It made me smile, and a I giggled slightly.

"No, you didn't. I don't know how you managed to do it, Christine. Even though it wouldn't have mattered. I have built up an immunity to each and every one of my teas. None of them can harm me," he said.

"Well, that makes me feel a bit better," I admitted. He gave me a ghost of a smile before walking off to make me some food. I snuggled deeper into the blankets, having a sudden chill. I waited patiently, looking around my room in the meantime. I noted for the first time that the room was tailored exactly to my preferences. There were light, pastel colors, walnut wood accents, and a single mirror in the far corner. It was simple, yet elegant. I wondered how Erik knew that I liked walnut and pastel colors. Probably just from observation of my clothing and furnishings in my dressing room above in the opera. Still, I was a little confounded that Erik knew so much about me…


	6. Tears

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks to everyone who's reviewed; it's much appreciated. I know chapters have been up sporadically, but I've been busy, what with Christmas coming up and all. Anywho, hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Lady Cavalier: For the Chapter "His Story," yes, he was telling all that to Christine. I was just too lazy to figure out where all the quotations went, haha. But I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I was wondering if the tea part was just a tad bit cheesy, so I'm glad to know that it's not. And I got my inspiration from other fanfics that I've read, and I kinda warped and twisted it to make it my own. ("Can we keep it?" "No." "But it's a talking dog!" Haha, I love Up.)**

**By the way, everyone, I've changed my PenName to Availre, if you haven't already noticed. It's still me, just with a different name.**

The breakfast Erik fed me was delicious, but it still had that underlying simplicity to it. I ate everything that was set on my plate, smiling contentedly when I was done. I looked at Erik. "Thank you," I murmured. "It was wonderful." Erik smiled depreciatively.

"It was nothing," he said. "Can I get you anything else?" I shook my head. I smoothed out the covers on my bed, smiling faintly. I looked up, only to discover that Erik was already looking at me.

"You know," I said, smiling at him. "You don't have to sit with me all day. I'm sure you must have other things to do, no? Not that I don't appreciate you being here," I said hurriedly, noticing the expression of pain the flickered across his face. "I just don't want to be a burden to you." My voice was quiet. I hated being any sort of dead weight to anyone. Especially Erik. He was closer to my heart than even Meg was. I hated feeling useless. Some people, they're okay with letting others take care of them all the time, but I hate it more than wearing a corset.

"No, Christine. I would much rather sit here and be with you than be by myself in another part of the house." A thought came to me then.

"Well… What if I came with you?" I asked innocently. Quite frankly, I was getting tired of being in this room. If I could get Erik to take me anywhere else in the house, I would be content. Beds become uncomfortable after spending a certain amount of times awake in them.

He smiled at me. "I think that's an ingenious idea, Christine. To what room do you wish to go?" I answered without the least bit hesitation.

"The music room, my dear sir," I said playfully. Just because my physical body wasn't up for anything at all, didn't mean my mind wasn't.

"Christine…" Erik said, looking a mite uncomfortable. "How am I to get you there?" he cleared his throat awkwardly, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Erik, it's perfectly acceptable to carry me, you know. It's not against the laws of propriety." I gave him my most winning smile, hoping to brush away his reservations.

Apparently it worked. Erik scooped me off the bed bridal style, carrying me into the music room. He set me down on a small divan that lay across from the piano. The way he handled me, you'd think I was made from the finest china, not flesh and blood.

"Would you play something for me?" I asked, looking up at him from the divan. He merely nodded and sat on the piano bench, stretching out his fingers before playing a song filled with rapture. I smiled, just enjoying the feeling of the notes floating around in the room. I felt like I was practically breathing the music in. It was marvelous. I noted a tinge of sadness that had crept into the song, becoming more and more dominant, until it was a hopeless, dreary song, telling of eternal sorrow and want, but that want never being fulfilled. I started to cry, it made me so sad. He finished on an E3, spinning around on the bench to face me. The moment he saw my tears, he rushed over and got on his knees clutching one of my hands earnestly.

"Why do you cry, Christine? Does my playing make you unhappy?" He seemed afraid.

"No, I'm fine, Erik. The song it was just so sad! I couldn't help it. The beginning was so happy and joyous, but then I heard the hopelessness enter, until it consumed me, and I…" I couldn't even finish my sentence, I was crying so hard. When I cry, I really rather hate it when people baby me, because it just makes it worse. I cry easily sometimes, and it annoys me so badly, but I cannot help it.

"You mustn't concern yourself with my fate, Christine," Erik murmured. "Your happiness should not be tainted by another's sorrow." He stood up and walked out of the room stiff backed.

I was so confused. That man was so moody he just made me want to scream sometimes. As my Angel, he was always ever patient, but down here, he was a completely different person. He was proud, indifferent, caring, affectionate. I didn't understand him! And I seriously doubted I ever would.

Hours passed. I sat in the music room waiting, but Erik did not return. I grew worried. Steeling myself, and judging that I would have enough strength to go and find him, I stood up and went looking for him. I went, unsteadily at first, but with more confidence as my steps grew more firm. It took me what seemed like an eternity to find him, but when I did, it stopped me cold.

He was in his room, not even on his bed, or any piece of furniture for that matter, curled up on his throw rug, sobbing. Half of me wondered why he was crying, and the other half broke in pity and sorrow. I was beside him in a heartbeat, rubbing his back like Daddy used to do for me when I was upset. He paused in his weeping for just a moment, and then went on renewed.

"Shh… Erik, it's all right," I whispered comfortingly. "Everything will turn out the way it's supposed to. There's no sense in worrying over something we can't change or do anything about." He sniffled , looking up at me through his wet eyes.

"How can you read right into my thoughts?" he whispered brokenly. "You are the only one who understands me—the only one who is not afraid. I am unworthy!" he exclaimed, his voice never reaching above a whisper.

"I—I," I was completely at a loss for words. Soon, I'd have to ask Erik exactly what he thought about me. I had to recover quickly, because Erik was losing his composure, fast. "Erik, what is bothering you? You can tell me, you know." There was a pause.

"I will be alone for the rest of my life, Christine. It has always been clear to me. I cannot allow myself to hope that I will not." He was coming around, I could tell,

"Erik, you will never be alone. I will always be here for you. Always. No matter what." I smiled at him sincerely, patting him on the back once more before standing up to give him a bit of space. He stood up with as much pride as he could muster.

"Come, Christine. I will take you to the surface. They'll be missing you."

**Yeah, this was a short chapter, I know. Sort of a filler, I suppose. Anyway, things will get moving within the next few chapters, I hope. Please review, it always makes my day brighter.**


	7. Suitor

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, the holidays are a pretty busy time for me. Plus, before that, I had my voice recital, and then a meeting with my voice teacher, who's supposed to be getting me the number for a lady who gives voice lessons for the Opera style. (Yay!) Hopefully that'll work out… Hmm.. Anyway, Onward, to the story!**

My premier went astoundingly well. I was received with thunderous applause after my first song, which made me blush profusely. I had worked hard for this moment, and I was proud of myself. As well as I should be. Having dared a glance after my song, I saw Erik giving me a standing ovation. That was what made me blush more than anything, I think. I saw Raoul in Box 2, staring at me the whole time I was on stage. He'd pay me a visit tonight, I thought. It would be nice to chat with him again, see how he'd changed, what he'd been up to since I'd seen him last.

Now, I was sitting in my dressing room, taking off my costume. Raoul chose that moment to come in. Luckily for me, I was behind me screen. "Raoul!" I shrieked, not bothering to pretend I didn't recognize him. "Get out! I'm in the middle of changing!" He turned on his heel very suddenly, and walked out of the room. I'd embarrassed him—that was plain enough. Served him right for just waltzing in without knocking. I hurriedly continued changing, and when I was through, I was headed for the door when Erik's voice stopped me. My hand just barely grazed the door's knob.

"Is that the young Vicomte? I was not aware that you knew him, Christine. For one with his rank, I would think he might have better manners. Tsk tsk. Such a shame. Ah well, you cannot change one's upbringing. After you are done visiting with your friend, Christine, I should like to have you down to my house for tea. If that is agreeable to you, of course?"

"I would like that very much, Erik," I said, smiling. "I'll be down in a bit."

"Don't be too long, now." I rolled my eyes at that comment. Erik always insisted that one should be punctual, if he said he'd be somewhere at 4:12 in the afternoon, he'd be there at 4:12. I heard his steps echo through the secret chamber as he left. I opened my dressing room door to reveal a very red Raoul.

"You can come in now, Raoul," I said, opening the door wider to invite him in.

"Christine, I—" he started, but I waved my hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about it. But next time, you had better knock, or I'll never see you again," I warned, a wicked smile on my face.

"Of course! I shan't forget again, I swear," he said seriously. I laughed at him then.

"Good." I shut the door behind us and gestured for him to have a seat as I took one myself on the divan. "So, monsieur patron, what brings you to visit me, a lowly supporting actress?" Raoul looked at me so intently then, I blushed and had to avert my gaze.

"You are anything but lowly, mademoiselle! You were the most beautiful thing on stage tonight," he said softly, reaching for my hand. I snorted and shifted my hand before he could take it. I was not to be taken in so easily by a man I hadn't seen in God-knows-how-long!

"Hardly. Meg is much prettier than I." And I felt it was true. My brown, curly hair and blue-grey eyes were considered plain features. Ideally, a girl should have been not over 5 feet, four inches tall, not way more than 120 pounds, and have blond hair and blue eyes. I was none of these things. Brown haired, blue-grey eyes, 5 foot 6 inches tall, and weighed in at 135 pounds. I was anything but ideal. Not that Meg was perfect either, but she fit the bracket better than I.

"Nonsense! I stand firm in my statement," Raoul said, chest puffing out like a rooster's would. I had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Raoul with a beak, tail and wings, cawing and scratching the dirt. "…Take you out to catch up, yes?"

I snapped back into reality. "Pardon?"

"I said, 'May I take you out to catch up?'" Raoul gave me an amused look. "You always were off in your own world. What were you thinking of, anyway?"

"It's not important," I said, waving it off. I wouldn't have been able to bear telling him, anyway. "But, although I'm flattered by your offer, I'm afraid I must ask for a rain-check. I have plans already," I explained.

Raoul's brow furrowed. "Oh." There was a pause. "I wasn't aware that you had a suitor..?" I felt anger flare up within me for Raoul snooping around in my business, but I remained calm, and decided to play along for a chance at a little revenge.

"Oh, yes, Raoul. He's the most charming of fellows. He always puts my needs above his own: making sure I'm comfortable, treating me to dinner's he's cooked himself. Oh, I could just go on and on about the man, but I won't, for fear of bragging." I smiled teasingly. Of course, I was speaking of Erik, but Raoul didn't know that he was my teacher, and I decided to leave it that way.

To my satisfaction, Raoul seemed considerably jealous. "Well, then, Christine, I would certainly like to meet the man, for he seems like a most pleasant… gentleman." Raoul practically spat out the last word. _No doubt you'd like to sum up your "competition,"_ I thought, snickering to myself.

"Perhaps Wednesday, Raoul? We could spend an afternoon together, like we used to?" He nodded, standing.

"I would enjoy that very much, Lotte," he said, making use of my old childhood nickname. "I'll be here to pick you up at, shall we say, 1 o' clock?" I nodded.

"That sounds perfect. Now, Raoul, if you'll excuse me, I must go and meet my date," I said, standing. Raoul nodded curtly then, and we said our goodbyes, and I waited until I was sure that he was gone to head to and meet Erik. To my surprise, he was already standing there.

"I came up to see what was delaying you," he said, taking my arm and looping it through his. "I didn't know you had a suitor," he said bemusedly. "I would most like to meet the man."

I swatted him playfully. "You know very well that I don't. And if I did, you'd be the first to know about him," I assured him. "But," I said, slowly my pace slightly. "You may have to play the part if Raoul wants to meet my "suitor" as badly as he says he does. I think you'd a make a fine one, at that." I thought I saw Erik blush, but I could never be sure with him.

"Ahem." He led me through a door that I had never noticed before, and soon, we were in his den. "Here we are," he said, gesturing grandly.

I giggled. "Yes, indeed. Here we are…," I whispered. Erik looked at me then, and I at him, and we seemed to just look for an eternity, before I felt his knuckle brush ever so lightly against my cheek. The touch seemed hesitant, as if Erik was afraid of my reaction. I shivered at his touch. I realized in that moment how attracted I was to this masked man.

Erik drew away instantly. "My apologies," he said hurriedly, striding away and avoiding eye contact. "Shall we dine?"

I followed him silently, perturbed by his behavior. "Erik—" I began, but he didn't let me finish. I hoped this wasn't becoming a habit with him.

"Christine, I understand perfectly fine that you are troubled by my touch. I do not need you to inform me of that," he said. He was agitated, that much was apparent. But he thought I was disgusted by him? I'd have to set him straight.

"Erik, you listen to me, and you listen good," I said, talking to him as a mother would as she is scolding a child. "I am most certainly _not_ disgusted by your or your touch! Do you understand? You're one of the most beautiful people I know," I said, nodding sharply. "I wil not have you talking about yourself in such a manner." I harrumphed in a most unladylike fashion, and sat down across from him at the table.

Erik was very much like a child in some ways, and yet, in others, he was wise far beyond his years. I marveled at the thought. He was very complex, and yet very simple. I couldn't really comprehend it, not yet. I realized he was staring at me. I arched an eyebrow in question, wondering if he had anything to say. Apparently he did, he just couldn't. His jaw was open, and he looked like he was about to speak, but no words formed. I could see the tears welling in both his eyes, and I could tell he was not going to let them fall. He seemed bound and determined not to cry in front of me again.

"Thank you for dinner," I murmured, attempting to let him recuperate. It seemed to do the trick. We had a normal evening. Well, as normal as could be expected, given the circumstances.

I bid him goodnight before the clock struck 11, because we both had a lot to think about. I had to confront my attraction to him. I realized how strange it was for me to be attracted to a man with such a face, but then, attraction is more than flesh deep, is it not? And I thought, again, how different my attraction was to Raoul compared to my attraction to Erik. One seemed light and fluffy (Raoul), while the other seemed deep and mysterious (Erik). Erik had made it rather obvious due to his story that he fancied me, and so had Raoul, what with the breach of propriety in my dressing room.

I lay in my bed for a long time awake, thinking about my situation.

**A/N: So, here's some (almost[?]) fluff. For R/C people, there will be moments for them, too. So yeah, Christine's pretty much in a love triangle (obviously, that's the whole point of the book, the movie and the play, isn't it?) and she's no idea who she's going to pick, or if she's even going to pick. I hope you all enjoyed my description of Christine's attraction to Raoul. It was rather easy to come up with, but I thought it fit the situation. Anyway, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!**


	8. Bubbles and Laughter

I was afraid of my attraction to Erik. I knew it was there, and it couldn't be ignored. But it was so strong that I was afraid of it. On a different note, I wasn't sure what I would do without Erik. I was so confused that I didn't leave my dressing room for hours after I had woken that morning. I dismissed every single knock, either ignoring it completely, or bluntly telling that person to please come back later. Only when Meg came calling, for the third time that morning, I might add, did I let her come in.

"Christine, what is it?" Meg said, sitting next to me on my bed, rubbing my back. I looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, as well as dark circles under them. I wasn't sure why this was bothering me so, but it certainly was, and I couldn't shake it off.

"Oh, Meg, I can't say," I said brokenly. Even if I wasn't sure what I was thinking, I knew I couldn't break a promise to Erik. Then a thought came to me in my muddled mind. "It's just… This girl I met a few months ago is having life issues, and she's asked me for advice, and I've no idea what to tell her!" Meg was to naïve to think I was talking about myself, I knew, so I could give her my exact predicament. I had to tell her, she was my best friend! What use is a secret if you can't tell your best friend?

"Well, perhaps I can help, Christine. Sometimes another perspective helps." Her green eyes sparkled innocently as she waited for me to confide in her as I had always done.

"Well, I don't even know where to start…" I told her then of my predicament, leaving out only parts that made it obvious that it was me. There was a long pause before Meg answered.

"Christine, I think you should tell your friend to follow her heart. I know it's typical advice, but I don't think you can _really_ listen to your head on matters of love. You can resist your heart, but I think that at some point you'll give in. Sometimes it's too late, but other times it's not. And it certainly seems to me that the man feels something for her, too, so she certainly doesn't have to worry about rejection," Meg said, placing a hand on my knee. I thought about this for a moment. "Come on," my friend said. "Rehearsal's in a half hour, and you still have to get ready!"

Honestly, I don't know if I would have attended rehearsals that day if it weren't for Meg. Sometimes I wish I hadn't gone anyway. But I did.

Raoul was there, in box 5. My eyes went wide, realizing that it meant that Erik wouldn't be watching today, and that Raoul would probably be on thin ice with the "ghost." I'd have to speak with both men. Even though I knew better, I still searched for Erik, trying to see if he was in _any _of the other boxes, but he wasn't. I sighed resignedly. Today was Wednesday, I remembered, which accounted for Raoul's presence here today. A day out would be good, I thought. Perhaps it would distract me from Erik. He was becoming a bitter topic within myself, mostly because I couldn't solve the problem, which was my attraction to him. I growled in frustration, earning me several looks from others that were backstage at that moment. I ignored them, however, because I was about to go onstage again, and I needed to focus, which I realized I wasn't really doing. I really needed to get out.

The moment rehearsal was over I dashed back to my dressing room, shut and locked the door, and turned around slowly. There was a rose on my vanity. I nearly broke down at the sight of it. I knew it wasn't from Raoul; he would have done something extravagant and over-the-top. I stepped over to the vanity and sat down, picking up the rose. It wasn't quite in full bloom, but it wasn't a bud, either. I closed my eyes and set the rose down. I changed my clothes, making an effort not to look at the rose again, and stepped out the door to go and meet Raoul near the front of the Opera house.

He met me with a large smile. "You were amazing, as always," he said, offering me his arm. I took it graciously.

"Thank you, Raoul," I said. "Where are we going today?" I asked, eager to be out of the Opera house. As he led me out, I felt a sense of relief and dread both. Was I abandoning Erik by going out with Raoul? No. I was relieved, though, to have a break from my problems, and I hoped that the further away I was from the Opera the farther away my troubles were.

Raoul was safe like that. He could make me forget everything that was troubling me—that much hadn't changed about him. He was much that same person: jovial, charming, handsome, and humorous. He was more mature than when he was younger, but that was to be expected. He, however, found that I had changed much, what with my father's death and all the events after that. He also said that he would have written to me, but he didn't know whether I was still at the Opera. He had been at sea as a sailor, looking to earn that title of officer, and as such, he would be leaving in a few months.

"I'd like someone to return to, Christine," he said softly, placing his hand over my own. His comment startled me.

"Raoul, please, can we not take things slower? I don't know if I can make that kind of commitment yet."

"Of course. I understand. And you have a suitor."

"No, Raoul. I don't." I was ashamed now of what I had done, and I couldn't lie to him further. "I never had a suitor. I just said that to keep you at bay," I admitted. I saw his ears turn red with embarrassment.

"Well, you certainly had every right to. I shouldn't have been snooping around in your business," he said. "I feel terribly for making you do such a thing. I had no idea you felt… threatened by me."

"It's not that I feel threatened, Raoul, it's just that I don't want to just jump into something like this. I've never been one to make rash decisions." Raoul's eyebrow promptly rose at that comment, and I realized that I was very rash when I was younger. But things were different now. After Daddy died, I had to mature quickly and make important decisions on my own. I was different.

The rest of the afternoon with Raoul went pleasantly. We discussed what had occurred since we had seen each other last, as well as other, more trivial matters. Raoul bid me goodbye outside the front steps of the Opera house, brushing his lips against my knuckles in a formal, intimate goodbye. I watched him leave, making sure he was out of sight before I went to the side door that would take me to see Erik.

Through the dark corridors I went without hesitation, as I had gone several times within the past week or so. I remembered with a start that today was my birthday. Things had happened so quickly that I had forgotten about it completely.

Erik was waiting on the shores of the lake, as promised. He was smiling expectantly. I supposed that he wanted to forget what had happened, and enjoy tonight as fully as possible. "Christine, happy birthday."

I blushed. "Thank you, Erik," I said, taking his hand as he helped me into the boat. The gondola slid easily over the surface of the lake, and I realized I was becoming more comfortable in the small boat. I smiled slightly, pleased with myself. Despite the fact that I had lived by the sea for some of my childhood, I could never bring myself to get on a boat. Not even Daddy could coax me. And yet, here I was, sliding across the glassy lake with a masked man. I observed Erik's paddling in silence.

"You're left-handed?" I asked, noting how he predominantly paddled with his left, and not his right, which confused me. Left-handed people were not supposed to be intelligent. Obviously, I realized, that wasn't true.

"Yes, I am," he said mildly. "You are not," he remarked matter-of-factly. Apparently Erik observed me very closely. I found it slightly disturbing. I had to remind myself that he had been seeing me for about eight years, and I had only begun to see him physically for about a week. It was only to be expected that he knew more about me than I did him. What would be truly disturbing, I thought, is if he knew me better than I knew myself.

"No, I'm not…" I said, shifting my weight slightly in the boat. "I always thought it would be interesting, though, to be left handed."

"It's not any different from being right-handed, except you have to be careful not to smear the ink when you're writing," he said. "I can also write with my right hand, but I am more comfortable with my left. The only reason I can write with my right hand also is because my father taught me how."

"Your father seems like a kind person," I remarked mildly. "I should like to meet him, I think." Erik glanced at me.

"I don't know if he's still alive," he said quietly, as if the thought pained him that his father might be dead.

"You could look for him," I replied, turning to face him briefly. "It's worth a shot."

"Perhaps." He didn't say anything else; I knew he was mulling something over.

"What's your last name, Erik?" I asked as sweetly as I could without seeming fake. If he wasn't going to look for his father, I'd do it for him. It was obvious that Erik cared for him, and it would be good to see him reunited with his family. But what if that reunion took him away from me? I pushed the thought away with some effort. If I was going to do this, I couldn't be selfish.

"My last name isn't important," Erik said flatly. Darn.

"It's important to me," I said stubbornly. I knew that I might get into an argument with Erik, and that could be an issue; he was the most stubborn man on the face of the earth. Erik glared at me.

"Very well, since you seem intent on knowing my surname, it's Girard."

"Erik Girard," I said. "It rolls nicely off the tongue. Erik is Swedish, you know," I said conversationally.

"I did not know that, but it's interesting. I often wondered at the unique spelling of my name. I suppose that explanation reveals why."

We pulled up on the shore of the lake shortly afterward, and Erik helped me out of the boat because I wasn't about to get my dress wet again. He proceeded to lead me into the dining room, pulling out a chair for me to sit in. I sat, and he went across to short table to face me, and we began dining.

We had some of the most expensive food I had ever seen. I wondered where Erik got it, and then I remembered his salary from working here at the Opera. I realized he must have quite a bit stashed up somewhere, because he didn't go anywhere, or do anything. Except his music, and that can be a very expensive hobby indeed, especially with Erik's taste. But Erik would bridle at the thought of me calling music a hobby. It was his everything. It _was_ life to him. I had a feeling that if he could live on music alone, he would. I probably would, too.

Erik insisted that I try everything on the table, but I bluntly refused when he offered me escargot. Eating live snails didn't appeal to me, no matter how tasty they might be. I still shudder at the thought of eating it. Erik took one, eating it discreetly while I was looking at something. But I knew he had eaten it, because all that was left of the snail was its shell. I made a face, and he smiled at me.

"They were expensive, I wasn't about to let them go bad without trying one." I chuckled. I knew he was trying to get me to try one, but I wasn't about to. Snails were slimy, and I had disliked them since I was a toddler. I didn't think they should be eaten.

"Erik," I said, deliberately changing the subject. "You really didn't have to go this far, you know. I would have been perfectly content with fried eggs," I smiled at him.

"I know. But it's the only day of the year you've ever let me spoil you, and plan on doing jstu that."

"Erik, I won't let you spoil me—especially if you won't let me get you anything for your birthday!" I glared at him playfully. "Besides, you gave me my gift last week. You really shouldn't have."

"Perhaps not, but I did, and that is that," he said. "Now, I shall clean up dinner, if you're done, and then we may sing."

"I'd like that… Only I'll help with the dishes." I didn't give him any time to argue and immediately got to work on clearing off the table.

Dishes didn't take all that long to do, but after we were done, we were wet up to our elbows in soapy, bubbly water. I took a handful of bubbles from the sinkand blew on them, watching them fall to the floor and pop upon contact. I smiled, took up another handful, tapped Erik on the shoulder, and as he spun around, the side of his face that was not covered by the mask was covered in bubbles instead. I giggled despite myself. He looked like, well, completely masked man. The only difference was that other half of his mask was bubbles.

Erik sneezed and bubbles flew. I laughed some more. "So that's the way it's going to be, eh?" he growled, and for a moment, I was afraid. Afraid of Erik's temper. But before I could apologize, Erik had covered my face with what was left of the bubbles in the sink. I started to laugh uncontrollably, gripping my sides for support. Erik looked at me silently for a moment, and then began to laugh as well. Soon enough, we were both gasping for air, I upon the floor and Erik bent over, hands resting on his knees for support.

"Oh, Erik," I said, slowly recovering. "I haven't laughed that hard in…" I paused, trying to remember how long it had been. "Since Daddy's death."

There was a sad pause. "Well, I'm glad to be of assistance, Christine," he said formally, but with a playful tug at his lips. He helped me up off the floor, and we proceeded into the music room. It took me a minute longer to regain my breath, but after that, I sang fairly well. It was a duet, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Erik's voice never failed to sweep me away.

Afterward, Erik and I were sitting in the den, sipping tea, of which I was careful to select only the safe kind. Erik had told me that he had put all the safe teas on the left side of the cupboard for me, so as to avoid another incident. I was very grateful for that.

"Erik, I had the most wonderful birthday," I said, standing. "But I should leave. It's getting late, and I have a performance tomorrow. I assume that you will be present?"

Erik set down his tea and stood as well. "Yes, of course, assuming the asinine managers haven't sold out my box," Erik muttered grumpily. That reminded me, I needed to talk to him.

"Erik, don't be angry with Raoul for sitting in your box today…" I said quickly.

"He was in my box?" Erik's eyes narrowed. "I didn't know; I was out in town today." I grimaced, it would have been better if I hadn't said anything. "I was looking for you today after rehearsal, but you were nowhere to be found."

"Oh. I was out, Erik."

"Unaccompanied? That's unsafe, Christine. I—"

"I wasn't alone. I was with Raoul." I was leery of his reaction.

"Ah. Well, I'm glad you weren't unsafe." His teeth were clenched, I could hear it in the way he spoke.

"Erik, if it bothers you, I won't see Raoul outside the Opera." I didn't know why I was trying to appease Erik's anger, it was my life after all, my choice.

"No, no. You may see him. I won't stop you from going out. It isn't right for you to have to be cooped up here."

"Thank you, Erik." I looked around. "Now I really must go. Will you see me across the lake?"

He seemed surprised by my request. "You ought to know I would have even if you hadn't asked." I smiled gratefully. I still wasn't comfortable enough to be in a boat myself, let alone cross an underground lake in it.

The ride across was silent. I sat listening to the dip over the oar behind me, and the occasional drip of water from one of the support beams above. When we reached the shore, I got out without much trouble, and my skirt managed to stay dry. Erik got out of the boat, and we stood side by side, staring out onto the surface of the lake. "Erik, thank you again for the meal and the laughs," I looked up at him earnestly, only to find that he was already looking at me. I had the barest hint of a smile on my lips, and before I could stop myself, I stood on tip-toe and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

**A/N: Erik's last name means strong spear, it's German in origin, I think, but it's French... Oh, and the sole reason I made Erik left-handed is because left-handed people are supposed to be more temperamental than right-handed people. I'm not saying that's true, but I just thought that that would be the "reason" for Erik's temperament. Yeah, and "temperament" is spelled right, I never realized that it had an "a" in there… You learn something new every day, though, right? Heh-heh. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please Review.**


	9. The Situation

**So I was sitting here typing this chapter out while watching the movie for inspiration. Hope you like.**

**Sorry, LadyCavalier, no can do. Mostly because I haven't yet decided myself.**

I was onstage, singing my heart out, eyes never wavering from box 5, where I saw Erik's silhouette occasionally peeping from the shadows. You wouldn't be able to see him if you didn't know he was there, of course, Erik was too skilled for that. After I spun off stage, waiting for my cue, I almost burst out laughing when Carlotta barely hit the high note of the aria. Nothing else terribly exciting happened that night, except for one or two incidents later that evening.

Raoul congratulated me thoroughly, to which I blushed profusely. He offered to take me out to dinner, but I refused, saying that I had plans, which was a lie. I was too tired to go out. All I wanted to do was sleep, and possibly get something to eat before that. I bid Raoul goodnight and headed to my dressing room.

Erik was already there. "Erik! Oh, you startled me," I said, pressing my hand against my chest. "I wasn't expecting you," I said, giving him a meaningful glance.

"I'm surprised that you're not out with the Vicomte." He raised his visible eyebrow at me, a curious expression on his face.

"I'm too tired. Singing took a lot out of me tonight, Erik." I rubbed my temples. "And I'm getting a headache." I sat down on my bed.

"I have tea for that, you know. If you would kindly follow me, mademoiselle." He held out his arm, and, as usual, I took it. The mirror slid away from the wall, and then shut behind us. I took only one step before I realized my dress was caught.

"Erik, my dress is caught. Would you be so kind as to open the mirror back up for me?" I gave him my prettiest smile, not that I doubted he would open the mirror back up again. He put a slight pressure in the upper left hand corner of the mirror, and it clicked open. I pulled my dress out, and I realized someone was in my room. Raoul. He slid the mirror open before I could shut it and slip away with Erik.

"Christine! What are you—who is this man?" Raoul demanded. I could see Erik stiffen.

"Raoul, this is my teacher." I explained, stammering slightly. I never thought Raoul would invite himself into my privacy, but he had. It made me so angry. "What are you even doing here, Raoul? I told you not to come in without knocking again, and now I shall not see you!"

"But I did knock, Christine! And I heard voices, and I grew worried so I came in."

"It's very obvious to me that the lady does not want you in her room, and as such, sir, I suggest you leave," Erik said quietly, and I knew that if Raoul didn't leave, Erik would make him.

"Oh? And what about you, monsieur? I certainly do not think you knocked!" Raoul raged. I covered my face in my hands.

"Raoul, just go," I muttered.

"Christine, please… Let go of me, brute!" and I knew Erik had ushered Raoul out of the room.

"You really should start locking your door, Christine," Erik said mildly, but that was enough to send me over the edge. I started crying, and I hated myself for it. I looked up, and Erik seemed shocked by my tears, if not a little scared. I knew that, for the most part, the reason I was crying was because I was so tired, and my head hurt. I knew I was also crying because I cared for both men, but neither of them cared for each other. I knew that they would make me choose between one and the other.

"Erik, I'm sorry. Perhaps tomorrow night… I'm really very tired," I murmured. I could tell Erik was hurt by my rejection, but I needed to sleep. I didn't want to have to make all the hard, difficult choices at once. And not being able to confide in Meg made it even worse. I was beginning to loathe my situation. I needed to go see my Father.

After Erik left, I got undressed and laid my head against the pillow, attempting to lull myself to sleep. I barely acknowledged the quiet sing-song whispering that filled my chamber, weaving me a lullaby into sleep.

_Daddy and I were walking along a long, misty beach, and I was holding his hand. There weren't very many people out on the sand today, due to the colder weather. Daddy and I were laughing about something, and he was about to tell me another story, when my bright red scarf blew from my neck and out along the coastline. I chased after it; always a whisper away from catching it. I gave up as it went out over the ocean._

_ "Don't worry, I'll get it!" a voice called from down the beach a little ways. I looked and saw a boy perhaps a year older than I tearing off his overcoat as he ran, pushing himself to catch the scarf before it went too far out. I watched, hand over my mouth. The water was so cold! _

_ The scarf settled a few feet on the water. It came up to about the boy's waist, and he snatched the scarf from the water, waving it about as if it were a hard-won trophy. In a way, I suppose it was. He waded back, and handed me the scarf, a happy look on his face._

_ "Thank you…?" I paused, realizing I didn't know the boy's name._

_ "Raoul," he said. "I'm Raoul."_

_ I smiled at him. "I'm Christine," I said, and promptly placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for saving my scarf," I giggled._

_ "Happy to be of service."_

_ A ways away, I could hear Daddy laughing, and I turned to him. "Let's get the young man in some dry clothes, Christine!" he called._

My dreams shifted.

_I looked around, and realized I was on the shore of the underground lake. Erik stood next to me, his gaze intense. I was saying something, but I couldn't hear what. I felt his fingers brush the hair out of my face, and he laid a soft kiss on my lips, leaving me feeling very warm inside. I smiled up at him, and a soft smile touched his lips, as well. It was the most handsome I'd ever seen him. I touched his porcelain mask with the back of my knuckles lightly, and a small flicker of sadness was seen across his features._

_ "You needn't worry about that, love," Did I just call him that? "If not for it, we may never have met."_

I woke to a knock on my door. "Who is it?" I asked groggily.

"It's Raoul," the muffled reply came. I groaned.

"Not now. I don't want to see you."

"But I need to see you," he said, letting himself in.

"Stop doing that," I said grumpily, flinging my pillow at him. It missed by a far margin.

"Christine, seriously, I need to talk with you…." I looked at him expectantly. He could talk to me all he wanted, but whether I said anything to him was a whole different matter. "I'm sorry about last night." I kept waiting. "It was wrong of me to barge in like that, but I feared for you, especially when I recognized that other voice as male."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Raoul," I said testily. "And besides, Erik would never hurt me." In my sleep muddled mind I had let his name slip.

"You're on a first name basis, are you?" Raoul snorted. "It seems to me that he's more than a teacher, Christine."

"Raoul, it's none of your business! Now get out! Out, out, OUT! NOW, RAOUL!" I screamed at him. I shook my head and groaned into my mattress. I felt a light hand on my back.

"Raoul, I thought I told you to leave," I growled and sat up. He looked at me like a puppy that had been yelled at. He kneeled by my bed.

"Christine, please, forgive me. I'll take you shopping if you do." I laughed sarcastically.

"I'm not as shallow as that, dear sir," I said bitterly. "It's better just to let me simmer for a while and then come back," I muttered. "Raoul." I looked at him angrily. He showed no signs of moving.

"Just think about it," he said, placing a soft kiss on my lips. That was enough for me to forgive him. Oh, why must I be so pliable? He was almost out the door.

"Oh, fine. But if you ever to that to me again without my explicit permission, I'm going to knee you in a very unpleasant place," I warned him. He seemed to take the hint.

"Tomorrow, then," he said gleefully. He certainly seemed to bounce back easily. I snorted and flung myself back onto my bed, groaning. I would not hear the end of this from Erik, especially with their newfound dislike for each other. I was just happy Raoul hadn't asked why I was inside the wall. That would have been tough to explain. I sit up and resigned myself to a bad day.

**Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and like where I'm going with this. I'm trying to get updates in more frequently, but it might be more difficult with mid-terms this month. Ugh. Sorry to anyone I'm disappointing with this story, but if you require something form the story, PLEASE REVIEW, and I'll see what I can do to put it in.**


	10. Floating, Falling

**Funnygirl00, I'm sorry that that's the only reason you're reading this story. I'll see what I can do to make it a tad more interesting, yes? And if there's any spelling or grammatical errors in here, please tell me, because I hate it when I do that! Anyway, onward and upward with things.  
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Raoul took me shopping the very next morning, a Thursday. I bought two frilly dresses, one was a forest green with a black lace trim and sleeves, and the other was a pale yellow with white lace trim around the bodice and sleeves. I personally preferred my forest green one, but Raoul liked the yellow one best, so I got it, too. He took me out to lunch at a corner café, at which I had a scone and a cup of coffee. Raoul was telling me of when he visited Italy with the navy, and of the cathedrals and the older part of the city that contained the mausoleums and arenas. I was enthralled.

"And the shops, Christine! You would have loved it there. It was almost always bright and sunny and the people were so friendly. I saw something that reminded me of you, and I couldn't resist buying it," he said, rummaging around in his pocket for something.

"Raoul, you shouldn't have," I said, although I was eager to see what he would pull out. When he did, I was thrilled. It was a small velvet box. Too big for and engagement ring, I thought wryly. I opened it with reverence to see an intricate bronze bracelet that was wrought to look like one that had been made out of real flowers. "Oh, it's just like the ones you used to make for me," I murmured. The stems and leaves were of the traditional bronze color, but the petals and insides of the flowers were of their original colors with a metallic shine. I looked up from the box and smiled at Raoul gratefully.

"I could not ask for a better gift, Raoul, thank you." I gave him a heartfelt hug, taking in his musky, masculine scent. It smelled of expensive cologne with a hint of the sea. It was intoxicating.

"I'd do anything for you, Christine. _Anything_. Whatever you would ask of me, I'll do it gladly, and without complaint. You have but to ask." I smiled at him again.

"Thank you for the lovely time, Raoul." I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist. "But I had best get back, the sun has nearly set, and I'll be missed."

"By who? Your teacher?" the resentment in Raoul's voice was obvious, and I knew he knew that I was attracted to Erik.

"Raoul, please. I don't want this to become unpleasant." I laid my hand lightly on his forearm, attempting to have him leave it alone. He sighed.

"Very well, for you I shall. But I won't leave it to rest for long." I nodded my understanding. We walked back to the Opera house in companionable silence, and upon reaching the steps, we stood facing each other.

"Christine, may I?" I raised an eyebrow; at least he was listening to my request this time. I nodded.

"You may," I said. He leaned down towards me and our lips met. The kiss was light and tender, and I felt the enormity of Raoul's affection for me. It didn't last for long, but it was long enough. I smiled at him, placing my hands on his chest lightly. "Thank you again, Raoul," I said, stepping away towards the doors. "I'll be seeing you."

I saw him wave at me, and I chuckled, stepping inside the building, heading toward my dressing room. I was eager to put on my new dress; the forest green one. I thought that it looked better on me than the yellow one, and I knew Erik would like it. I shut the door behind me and immediately went behind my changing screen. I let the dress I was wearing drop by my ankles, while pulling the desired one out of the bag. I stepped into it and started doing it up the back before realizing I couldn't do it up all the way. I blew air out of my mouth as a horse might in frustration. I realized that the fitting lady had done up the dress for me while I was at the shop.

"Great," I muttered, sitting down. "How am I supposed to do this now?" I was extremely aggravated.

"Christine, aren't you coming down for your lesson? Or are you not feeling well?" I could hear the concern in Erik's voice as clear as day.

"No, no. I'm coming, I just can't get my dress done up all the way," I said, sighing. "Do you think you could help me?" I asked hopefully.

"Um, I suppose that I could," Erik stammered. I had to suppress a laugh at how uncomfortable he was. I made my way around the changing screen.

"It's just those three buttons, Erik," I said, trying to gesture to the ones I meant. "I just can't seem to reach them." I felt his fingers slowly put each button in its proper place, being careful not to touch my skin. I could feel the heat from his fingers, though, and a small smile touched my lips. The last one was fastened in, and I turned around to face Erik.

"Do you like it?" I asked, turning around so he could see. He nodded silently.

"Shall we go, then?" he asked. I felt a twinge of disappointment within myself because Erik didn't like my dress more, but I forced myself to shrug it off.

After the lesson was over, Erik and I did as we usually did: we sat around the fire in his den, sipping tea. Tonight we were both silent. It was the sort of silence that you wanted to break, but couldn't because it would be awkward. I stared into the fire for a long while before saying, "I need to visit Daddy." The words were out before I could stop them. "The anniversary of his death is soon, and I'd like to bring him flowers…"

"I could take you, Christine," Erik said, looking at me intently. "If you'd like me to come along, that is." I nodded enthusiastically. Having Erik come with me would be a welcome respite from the grief that always assailed me when I visited Daddy's grave. "Would it be agreeable to leave in two days time? That should give adequate time to prepare your affairs before we set off."

I nodded. "Yes, thank you, Erik." I said. I stood up to take my empty tea cup into the kitchen, and I could feel Erik watching me as I left. I came back and leaned against the doorway. "You're very generous, monsieur, and I appreciate it."

"Christine, you ought to know by know that I would do anything to make you happy." Erik stood up, teacup in hand. His porcelain mask reflected the flickering firelight, and he stood, still as a statue in his black suit.

"Yes, I know," I murmured. "I should go up and prepare my things," I said half-heartedly, not really wanting to go, but knowing I should. Erik's presence in that moment was so enigmatic; I loathed the prospect of leaving.

"Mmh," he said. Erik seemed very distant, and I wondered what was bothering him.

"Erik, is something bothering you?" I asked, stepping toward him. He seemed to step out of his reverie, and then slip right back into it as soon as he saw me. "Have I done something to upset you?" I asked, growing worried.

"No, the issue is not you, Christine," he said quietly, avoiding eye contact. I took that as "yes, Christine, I am upset at you, but I'm not going to say anything."

"Erik, please, you can tell me," I said, resting my hand on his arm. He seemed to flinch at the contact. I withdrew my hand with a hurt look on my face. "I'll leave then," I said, stepping back and turning around.

I headed out of the house, my eyes brimming with tears so that I could hardly see. I made it to the boat without incident and stepped in. I figured I could paddle while sitting down, and as such, proceeded to make my way across the lake. No, it wasn't perfect paddling, but it worked for me until I got about to the middle of the lake. I looked back, trying to see if Erik was standing on the shore. He wasn't. I steeled myself and kept paddling, but I was crying so hard that I couldn't see where I was going, and just when I knew I ought to be about on the opposite shore, I looked up to find that I was still on the lake, and an unfamiliar part of it at that.

Panic took over me then. "Erik!" I screeched, hoping beyond hope that he would hear me. I knew that the lake was vast, and I also knew that Erik knew every inch of it. I could hear my scream echo throughout the support beams, and that made me even more frightened. I took several shaky breaths and decided to stand up to get a better vantage point.

I've never been so stupid in my life.

I stood, and the boat began to wobble violently. I tried to sit down, but the sudden movement was enough to capsize the boat, and I fell into the water.

I could hear the water of the lake whooshing around me. I didn't want to open my eyes, for fear of what I would see. I could swim well enough, but my dress was so heavy that it started to make me sink. There was a moment of complete and utter horror, in which I thought:

So this is how I'm going to die.

I saw my short life flash before my eyes, and then I lost consciousness.


	11. Third Person

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! It's greatly appreciated.**

**Funnygirl: Ah, I see. And yes, there will be conflict coming up. Physical, verbal, the whole nine yards.**

I woke up to a throbbing head, and I groaned in pain. Memories flashed in rapid succession, and I wondered that I was still alive. My hair was still damp, and I knew that it had been a few hours since I fell into the lake. I opened my eyes and found that I was in my room in the house by the lake. _Erik saved me._ At least that's what I presumed, since I was in his house. I sat up slowly, not sure how my body would react. I saw him, then, sitting in the opposite corner of the room, just like he had before.

"Erik," I murmured, and he looked up at me, the relief clear on his face.

"Christine," he said, coming to my side. "You're all right," he kissed my knuckles reverently and I smiled wearily at him.

"Thank you," I said hoarsely.

"I'm so sorry, Christine. I truly am. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Erik, you saved me. There is nothing to be sorry for," I said, stroking his hair. "Thank you," I said again.

Erik looked at me for a long while. "I heard you," he said solemnly. "I heard you calling my name. And I ran. I ran as I've never run before. I could see your outline on the lake, but I knew you couldn't see me because of the mist. I saw you fall…"

"But you came and got me," I said. "That's all that matters… Erik, what was bothering you last night?" I asked. He immediately stiffened.

"I don't want to talk about it, Christine," he said darkly. "I don't want to burden you." I sighed and shifted in my bed. I realized that I was in a nightgown. I blushed, knowing that Erik had undressed me. He always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.

"I didn't want you to catch pneumonia," he growled. I started to glare at him.

"Erik Girard, if you're not going to tell me what's bothering you, despite my insistence, then you need to stop being so gloomy." His eyes flashed angrily.

"Fine, Christine, fine! I'll tell you! You drive me insane sometimes, woman! So much that I don't know what to do!" I bristled at his words. Perhaps I didn't want to know what was bothering him. I cleared my thoughts. No, I needed to hear this. I wasn't perfect. "And especially last night. Oh, _mon dieu_! I had to cope somehow! You looked perfect, Christine, and I couldn't stand it! I couldn't stand it!" He placed his head against the mattress, sighing and shaking his head. I was speechless. He was upset because I looked beautiful? It took me a little time to understand, but when I did, I felt horrible. Of course he had needs. But what could I say? Should I apologize for dressing the way I did? I didn't know how to react.

"Erik, I—I…" I stopped right where I was. Why should I say something if I didn't know what to say? What if I said something wrong? I shook my head. "It's not your fault," I said finally, hoping that that would help. I closed my eyes.

"But Erik does not deserve to feel good! And he feels terribly for neglecting Chrstine!" My eyes flew open at Erik's words. He was referring to himself in…third person? Why was he referring to himself in third person? I realized that he must revert to that when under great duress.

"Erik," I started stroking his hair again. "Everything will be all right." I felt like his mother, comforting him after he fell and scraped his knee. He looked up at me then.

"Oh, Christine," he said forlornly. "You are so merciful." I knew he needed me then—just as much as I needed him.

**Yeah, I know it's a short chapter, but it seemed like a good place to end this one. I hope you enjoyed a semi-Lerouxy Erik chapter, haha. Please, please, please, please, please review. It makes my day and motivates me to write more. And I'm sorry that I'm not better at writing fluff. My sincerest apologies.**


	12. Train Ride

…**Yes. This chapter should be longer, so I hope you enjoy it! There will be fluff and stuff coming up, so brace yourself. And funnygirl, I received the email that you reviewed the last chapter, but it's not showing up on my reviews online. My internet is being weird.**

I looked down at Erik where he knelt by my bed. He was looking up at me despairingly. I stroked the unmasked side of his face tenderly. We had been sitting like this for some moments after he had called me "merciful." I wasn't precisely sure how to react to that comment, but I knew Erik needed me, and I _knew_ I needed him. So I bent down towards him, still stroking his face, and I kissed him softly. Not on the cheek like before, but on his slightly disfigured mouth. As soon as our lips met, I knew that Erik's feelings for me were different than Raoul's feelings for me. They were deeper, perhaps even darker than Raoul's. I shut my eyes, and I could feel Erik's hands caressing my face timidly. I smiled into the kiss and draped my arms around his shoulders. I slowly pulled away, not wanting to take this any further. I bit my lip, wondering how Erik would react.

He was smiling at me. He took a strand of my damp hair and brushed it out of my face. I smiled at him easily. He grasped my in a tightly wrapped hug. I grasped him as tightly as I could, whispering, "You'll never be alone in this world, Erik; not while I'm in it." He gripped me even tighter then, rocking me back and forth slowly.

Even though Erik came across as cold and uncaring, he was as insecure a person as I've ever met. He was deeply influenced by what others thought of him, and it had shaped him throughout his life—all the rejection and anger, and occasional acceptance, pointed towards him had made him into who he was. Inside of himself, he was kind and caring and willing to love, if only someone would show him some kindness.

I sighed and laid my head on my pillow. I let my eyes wander around the room. I caught sight of my dress and I gasped. It was completely ruined. My hand flew to my mouth.

"Christine?" Erik laid a hand on my forearm.

"Oh, my dress, it's ruined!" I said.

"Don't worry, I'll buy you another," he said.

"But Erik, it's so expensive!" I complained, trying to dissuade him from buying me one. I felt like this whole situation was my fault, just as he thought it was his.

"Money is no object for me, Christine," he said gently, and his tone suggested he would buy me one even if I won this argument. I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that he was going to buy me a new dress, and swung my legs out of the bed.

"I should head up, Erik," I said, smiling at him warmly. "I still need to pack, and get my things ready."

"No need, Christine," Erik said, standing. "I took the liberty of preparing your things for you, as well as sending notes to everyone who needs to know of your departure." I nodded gratefully. I appreciated the fact that Erik was always thinking about me.

"Even Raoul?" I asked skeptically. I heard Erik chuckle.

"Even Raoul," he said, coming around the bed and placing his hand lightly in the small of my back. "So everything has been taken care of for you, Christine. You need not worry."

"Mmh. And just how did you get the notes to these people?" I asked. Erik looked down at me, smiling.

"You know, Christine, sometimes you're too curious for your own good… Actually, I delivered each note personally—to a certain degree. The managers found their note in their office, Meg's was lying on her bed and Raoul's… well, Raoul's was a special case." He paused, and I looked up at him curiously. "Raoul's was delivered to him by a certain hooded man."

"Erik!" I swatted him playfully. "You didn't!" He nodded. "I hope you didn't scare him too terribly," I said thoughtfully.

"No, I think not. He was a little shocked upon receiving the news, but I believe he'll soon recover. The expression on his face was priceless, Christine. I believe he was most wounded that you did not bid him goodbye in person."

"If there was one person I should like to say goodbye to in person before we leave, Erik, it would be Meg. She deserves at least that much." He nodded agreement.

"Yes, she will be there at the train station to say farewell tomorrow, Christine." My face lifted.

"Really? Oh, thank you, Erik!" I hugged him. I couldn't imagine leaving to go somewhere without saying goodbye to Meg. She was, aside from her mother, the only family I felt I had left. I felt Erik place his arms around my shoulders. I realized how tiny I was in comparison to him. The top of my head barely reached his chest, bringing him in at probably about 6 feet, 4 inches. He was almost a foot taller than I was! I buried my face in his chest, taking in the moment. He smelled musky, masculine, and like herbs. He didn't seem like the type to wear cologne, and I almost lost myself in it. It was intoxicating. I pulled away from him reluctantly. He was looking down at me with such tenderness I wanted to weep. He really did love me.

Did I love him? I wasn't sure. I knew I needed him, and if that's love, then yes, I was in love with Erik. I also knew that my feelings for him were deep. But what about Raoul? He was certainly attractive, and I had feelings for him, but not like I had for Erik. And Raoul was certainly the safe choice. I knew that I would always be well cared for by him, and have the best things that money could buy, not to mention a position in society. Erik, he was… well, he was Erik. There was no changing that, and he certainly wasn't always the most amiable man on the planet. And he definitely wasn't the safe choice, and I had never really had a very large sense of adventure. It was all so confusing for me. I was barely of age, and I already had two very, very different men competing for my affections, and going about it in two very different ways.

I smiled at Erik gently, and padded out of the room in my bare feet to make myself some tea. I couldn't wait to leave tomorrow. Visiting Daddy and talking to him always cleared my mind. I was hoping it would do so this time, because if it didn't, I'd be just as lost and confused as before, with no one to turn to. I sighed, waiting for the water to boil. I pulled out a raspberry flavored tea bag and placed it in my cup, along with some sugar. I blinked as the kettle began to whistle. "Erik, would you like some tea?" I asked, noting how he was in the kitchen, watching me.

"No, thank you, Christine," he said softly. I nodded and poured my tea before sitting down at the table. He sat across from me, still studying me intently. I shifted under his gaze. I sipped my tea mildly and looked about the room; anywhere but at Erik. He was such a curious person sometimes, and I wasn't quite sure how to react under his scrutiny—if, in fact, it was scrutiny. I chose to study my tea cup intensely rather than think about Erik and his curiosity.

"If you were to stare at that any harder, Christine, I fear that the cup might burst into flame," he said humorously. I looked up from the cup and at Erik. He had an amused look on his face. "Is there something that bothers you, Christine?" I sighed and set my tea cup down on the table.

"Why are you studying me so intensely?" I asked suddenly. Erik seemed puzzled.

"What?"

"You always watch me, Erik, as if you're trying to memorize everything about me. It disconcerting," I admitted sheepishly. I saw his brow furrow.

"I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, Christine. I only find it miraculous that someone like yourself could have affections for someone like myself," he said, blinking several times, as if to get something out of his eye.

"I know you don't, Erik," I said. "But I don't understand how I'm any different from anyone else," I said self-depreciatively.

"You're one of the few people who have been able to see past my face. There's only you, my father, and Madame Giry. And the Daroga. But I haven't seen hide nor hair of him in quite some time. I believe he's forgotten about me," Erik sounded somewhat sad about that. "But I suppose it's a good thing, he's always irritated me beyond belief." I raised an eyebrow. It might be interesting to meet the "Daroga" fellow sometime. Erik sighed and stood from the table. "I'll leave you, then," he said.

"Erik, no, you misunderstood me. I merely request that you not look at me quite so… intently. I don't wish you to leave," I said the last part quietly, if not a bit sadly. I didn't want Erik to leave. The thought, I realized, scared me, and I couldn't bear to hurt him. Erik looked at me quizzically. I shrugged.

"You are a very complex woman, Christine," he remarked casually. I groaned.

"And I've always prided myself on my simplicity. I suppose I've been living a farce for these past few years," I said, jokingly, but with a serious expression on my face. Erik looked at me intently for a moment then, and I saw an unnamed emotion flicker across his face.

"I suppose," he said.

I took Erik's hand as he helped me into the carriage, and I sat across from him. "Thanks for doing this for me, Erik," I said for probably the fifth time that morning. He nodded silently. Earlier that day, I noticed that he had brought his violin, and I wondered at it, but said nothing. I decided that if Erik wanted to reveal his reasons with me, he would. The same would be true with his face… I hoped. I wasn't going to push Erik to reveal his face, but I wasn't going to let him hide behind it, either. When he was comfortable showing his most personal secret with me (again, but willingly), he would. I was confident in the fact.

The ride to the train station was a silent one, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. I was pleased to note that Erik wasn't constantly staring at me, though both of our gazes wandered to the other frequently.

Pulling up to the train station, I immediately recognized Meg sitting on a nearby bench. I practically leapt out of the carriage, I was so eager to see her. I realized that I hadn't seen her in a while, now, we had both been so busy, albeit with completely different things. We both grinned and held each other tightly.

"Oh, Christine, I must tell you something before we leave!" Meg said, pulling me away from Erik, who had joined me a few moments later, after paying the cab driver and getting our things. I thought it odd that Meg didn't wonder who Erik was.

"All right, I'm coming," I said, trying to keep up with her. I could tell that Meg was practically bursting with excitement. "Well?" I said, once we were out of earshot of, well, practically everyone. I could see that Erik was keeping a watchful eye over me, but I ignored him.

"I've gotten myself a beau!" I raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"A suitor? You?" Meg hit me playfully.

"Christine, stop it!"

"All right, then, what's he like?"

"Oh, he's so dreamy! He's tall, and dark haired and eyed! You simply must meet him when you return… Speaking of that, who's your companion?" I grimaced. Here it was. I was going to have to lie to my best friend again in order to protect Erik. No. I wasn't going to.

"Him? Oh, he's just my teacher," I said, suddenly bashful. He wasn't _just_ my teacher, that much was apparent. But Meg didn't need to know that. As far as she knew, Raoul and I were a pair.

"Really? Well, I must say that if I didn't have Marcus, that's his name, you know, I'd certainly be interested in him." We both studied Erik for a few seconds. I had always assumed, up until that point that my attraction to Erik was due to our connection through music. But then, studying him, I realized that if not for his disfigurement, he would indeed be very handsome. "But, Christine, why does he wear that mask?" Meg asked. I knew that she was asking innocently, but I still bristled. How could I answer that question? I turned to Meg.

"I don't know," I said. "I think, perhaps, that he may have been burned in a fire some time ago," I murmured. I really didn't want Erik hearing that I was talking about him. He started towards us, and I felt a twinge of fear in my belly.

"Christine," Erik said upon coming over, "Our train leaves in but a few minutes. Say your goodbyes so we do not miss it." I nodded and turned to Meg, who was avoiding eye-contact guiltily. Perfect, I thought. Now Erik would know for sure that we had been talking about him. Meg and I embraced one last time, and resolved quickly that we would get together shortly after I came back to the Opera house, and I would certainly meet Marcus then.

Erik helped me load my bags onto the train, and we found a box that was empty. I sat, fidgeting, waiting for the ride to start, while Erik glared at anyone who was looking to see if they could fit in with us. I had a feeling that more than one box would be overfull with people. Almost at the very last minute, a couple came looking for a place to sit, and Erik was about to shoo them away with his intimidating glare, as he had done for every single person before, when I hurriedly opened the door.

"Please, come in," I said. "There is room in here for you both." I smiled kindly, and sat next to Erik so they could have a bench to themselves. Erik looked completely irked, but I ignored it, because the woman was with child. I patted Erik's knee, hoping that he would grant them some of his rare patience, despite the fact that he liked his privacy, and was uncomfortable in public. He whispered something in Latin unhappily, and I retorted right back. Erik had taught me Latin within the first weeks of our meeting. He said it would be beneficial for the Latin Operas to understand what I was saying. Soon enough, we were battling with words, and the couple was giving us odd looks.

"_Erik, it was polite. And if anything, they're judging us now because we're sitting here arguing in Latin!" _I whispered harshly. That kept him quiet for a moment, so I continued. "_And can't you see that she's clearly pregnant? There was, and still is, plenty of room in here."_ He seemed to growl.

"_I know you and Meg were talking about me," _he said, completely changing directions. "_And I would like to know what was said_." I raised an eyebrow.

"_Erik, it's not any of your business, but I'll tell you, because it won't hurt anything,"_ I hissed. _"Meg wanted to know who you were, and I told her you were my teacher, and then she asked why you wore the mask."_ I could see Erik's face pale. _"I told her that you may, or may not have been burned in a fire."_ Erik leaned against the back of the bench, sighing heavily. It was clear that Erik was shaken by what I had said; that I had revealed those few pieces of information about him. So, in order to mend his frail ego, I said, _"She also said that if she were not courting Marcus, her suitor, she would be interested in you, because you're handsome. And I agreed,"_ I huffed arrogantly, turning away from him. Erik froze and looked at me.

"_You think I'm handsome?"_

"_So what if I do?_" I whispered angrily, because I had come to the conclusion that Erik didn't trust me. There was a long pause between us, then:

"_Christine, I'm sorry."_ I turned to face him.

"_I forgive you,"_ I said. I turned to the couple, who were looking at Erik and I in bewilderment, and gave them an embarrassed smile. They smiled back.

"Is that your fiancé?" the woman asked meekly. I blushed and looked to Erik for guidance. He cleared his throat. I sighed, realizing that I was on my own.

"Yes," I said. It would be improper for me to travel with him otherwise. And we didn't look like we were kin to one another at all, so that was the only safe option. If I could pass for anyone's family, it would either be Meg or Raoul. "We've been engaged for about two weeks now." I chose that specific time frame due to that was when Erik had first revealed himself to me. "I'm taking him to meet my father." That was true enough. Daddy was dead, but I still wanted Erik to meet him.

I glanced up at Erik, and I could tell he was surprised by my ability to lie so seamlessly. The woman smiled. "Jacques and I have been married for almost a year now," she said, smiling fondly at her husband. "I'm Lynnette," she said.

"I'm Christine, and this is Erik," I said, gesturing to my "fiancé". Erik smiled politely. "I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable earlier, we were arguing over the cost of the fare," I said easily. Lynnette nodded understanding.

"Yes, it has gone up, hasn't it?" she said. I proceeded to ask her when she was expecting, and the conversation just took its turns from there. Jacques and Erik even had a small conversation, but Lynnette and I talked most of the train ride to Rouen.

"What are you headed to Rouen for, Lynnette?" I asked, curious. She seemed to shift from glee to depression the instant I asked that question.

"Jacques' aunt, Marianna, just had a seizure," she said sadly. My curiosity was piqued now. Erik shifted in his seat, and I could tell he was interested, too.

"I'm sorry," I said solemnly. "Is she very old?" I asked. If she was, that would rule her out as Erik's mother.

"No, she can't be more than fifty, wouldn't you say, Jacques?" he nodded affirmation. I glanced at Erik.

"Are you going there because she has no one to care for her? I don't mean to pry," I said hurriedly, noting the dark look on Jacques' face.

"Oh, it's no bother. It helps me to talk about it. But no, just to visit. Her husband, Charles, is still alive and in very good health, actually. We're just going to visit for about a week or so." I nodded, attempting to stay calm. Erik stood.

"Excuse me," he said shakily, stepping out of the box. I watched him go. I knew that the chances were good that his mother was the one who had a seizure.

"Their surname wouldn't happen to be Girard, would it?" I asked quietly, leaning forward some in my seat.

"It is," Jacques interjected. "What's it to you?" Lynnette gave him a disapproving look. Jacques reminded me of Erik in that way. Always defensive.

"When my fiancé was younger, he was friends with that family, I believe," I said quietly.

"Nonsense!" spat Jacques. "They never saw anyone. Not even my family. Not until I was thirteen." I paled.

"Did they have a son?" I asked meekly. Erik chose that moment to come back in.

"Yes, they did," Jacques said. "He was the reason that they never saw anyone. I heard that the son was a horrible beast, he was. But he went missing when he was younger. That would have been some number of years ago, now," he said bitterly.

Tears welled up in my eyes out of compassion for Erik. To step out to compose yourself and then come back to have your biggest insecurity stabbed as soon as you walk in? I took his hand, and he gripped it tightly, fighting for composure.

**So, there's that chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed that little twist in the story. It looks as if Erik's going to have to pay a visit to his fam. And yes, I decided to have Gustave die in the same town that Erik was born in. Ironic, eh? Long chapter, and much drama, me feels. Please review, it would mean tons to muah. **


	13. Man of Steel

**Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. Here's another one for your enjoyment (hopefully)!**

I lugged my suitcase off the train, Erik close behind me. We stood for a moment, with Lynnette and Jacques to my left. We said our farewells, and went our separate ways. Erik brought me to a quaint hotel wherein he purchased two rooms. He insisted upon carrying my bag up the stairs as well as his own, and I thanked him sincerely. He paused in my doorway before turning around.

"Erik, do you want to talk?" I asked gently. He shook his head. "Well at least come in and sit with me, please," I said quietly. He walked in without a word, sitting down on the only chair that was in the room. I sat on the bed. Erik was fiddling with his thumbs and his forearms were resting on his lap, so he was bent over, staring at the floor. I sighed inaudibly. I felt bad for ever asking that first question, then Erik wouldn't be so heartbroken.

"Erik," I said quietly, my voice barely audible even to me. "I'm sorry about Jacques. If I had known he would react like that, I wouldn't have said anything."

"Christine, it's not your fault—you couldn't have known," Erik said in a defeated tone. I wasn't sure whether I was apologizing about Erik's parents, or Jacques' answer to my question. I stood up, and Erik's head rose to look at me and I knelt in front of him, taking his hands gently. I pulled him up off the chair and close to me. I slid my arms around his waist, and I felt him put his arms around me. I rocked us side to side gently, humming a soft tune.

I understood—somewhat—what Erik was going through. Daddy had always told me that my mother had died from a stroke. I didn't really remember her, but I could relate to Erik's pain, because occasionally Daddy would lapse into a silence like that. I knew he had blamed himself for my mother's death. I never thought it was his fault, I knew Daddy always took care of me to the best of his ability, and why wouldn't he have done the same thing for my mother?

I knew Erik's mother hadn't accepted him, but still, I knew it must be killing him that his mother wasn't healthy, and could very well die. I pressed face into Erik's chest, stopping the melody, only to realize had picked it up and was humming to me. I knew he was humming to help himself, too. For years, and even now, music was his only solace in life, and it was always there, no matter what, and it always knew exactly what to say.

I could feel Erik's tears soaking through my hair, along with the tremors that occasionally wracked his body. "Erik," I said, my voice slightly muffled by his shirt and arm. "We should visit them." His humming stopped, but the rocking kept going. "I think it would be good for everyone." He took a deep breath, and I heard him say, and I felt the humming in his chest as he spoke.

"Yes. But not while Jacques and Lynnette are there. I will save him his dignity."

"That's a noble thing to do, Erik," I said, burying my face in his chest. "If you like, you can stay with me tonight, so you won't have to be alone."

"I'd like that," he said, voice cracking. I nodded.

"I'll even stay up with you, Erik." I felt him nod, and we pulled apart. So, that was how we spent the night. Erik composed, I talked aimlessly, listened to how far he had gotten, he talked to me about his childhood in more depth, and I told him about Daddy.

I stretched and rolled my shoulders, somewhat stiff from being up all night. Erik didn't seem fazed by it. We took the thirty minute walk to Daddy's grave and I stood there silently for some time until I heard a violin playing behind me. I turned to see Erik playing a mournful tune, which seemed to have a Swedish origin to it. I realized with a start that it was the piece that I had heard bits of last night. It was a requiem for my father. A short one, but the best one I had ever heard, and despite my tender age, I had heard my fair share of them. There was a long, last note and the song ended. I hugged Erik tight and he stroked my hair.

A passerby would have seen two silhouettes clinging to one another as if for their lives. The man was tall and well built, with a violin and bow in hand, and a girl with a cloak billowing out behind her, towards the grave that she had just been facing.

But there was no one in the cemetery that day. Erik and I were alone in our shared grief. Mine was from times past, his fresh and raw.

The week of waiting came and went. Erik and I visited daddy's grave once more, and I laid a small bouquet of flowers in front of his small cross. We let two more days pass, for safety measures (not that I would have minded visiting with Lynnette again).

When we were finally ready to go and find his parents, Erik was a nervous wreck. I tried to console him.

"I always assumed that they were dead, or had forgotten about me. Perhaps they have," he said, only moments before getting into the cab.

"To the Girard's home, please," I told the driver, and the cab started off. "Erik, you'll do fine," I assured him. From what Erik had told me, his father would probably be happy to see him. As would his mother, I hoped, assuming that she was still functioning correctly. I sighed. I was worried, too. Not for myself, but for Erik. It would only hurt him worse if his own parents turned him away, or had, as he had suggested, forgotten him.

It seemed like it took an eternity to get there, but when we did, it seemed like it arrived all too soon. I asked the cab driver to wait just a moment; we may not be very long. We left our luggage in the carriage and headed down the drive. I held Erik's hand and asked, "Is this it?"

"Yes," he choked. We made our way to the front door. I looked up at him, and he knocked firmly. I was surprised at how calm he appeared. We stepped back some from the door, waiting. Erik was made of steel, I thought. There was the sound of a door unlocking, and I felt butterflies in my stomach.

The door opened to reveal a graying man with deep eyes. He was a bit shorter than Erik, and you could tell that in his youth, he and Erik could have been twins.

"Look, Jacques, I've already told you—" he stopped when he saw that Erik was not Jacques and I was not Lynnette. "How can I help you?" he asked. Erik opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so I spoke for him.

"Are you Charles?" I asked. He nodded confirmation. "I'm Christine, and this is Erik," I said, not really knowing where to go. Charles still seemed to be confused.

"I'm here to see my mother," Erik said, his voice steady. I looked up at him, proud that he was being strong.

**Bwah hahahaha! A short chapter, but the next one should be longer, and hopefully up soon. It was interesting writing this chapter, because I listened to "someone like you" by adele over and over again (I had it on repeat, actually), because it seemed appropriate. I actually got nervous when they were walking up to the house.**


	14. The Fight The Voice

**Upon looking at my hits for this story, I noticed that 666 are from the U.S… I'm wondering if this story is doomed to failure, haha.**

Charles' face flickered. "I'm sorry," he said. "But my wife and I only had one child, and he was abducted as a boy." I looked up at Erik. Was Charles really that blind? And then it hit me. His eyesight was probably failing.

"Monsieur Girard," I said, touching the door frame lightly. Erik was a wreck, trying to compose himself. My heart went out to him. It probably hadn't occurred to him that his father's eyes weren't as sharp as they used to be. "I know your son," I said meekly.

"What? But that's impossible! We searched for years without a clue, and you just happen to find him?"

"Actually, he found me. He works at the Opera Garnier," I said. "He is my teacher, and my friend." Charles' eyes went misty.

"Would that I could see him again."

"He is here, monsieur." I pulled Erik forward. I realized that, with his wife's declining health, he had probably put most of his money into doctors and prescriptions. With his failing eyesight, he wouldn't have been able to see to do his work, and thus couldn't afford to buy glasses for himself. I resolved to talk to Erik about buying him a pair.

Charles opened the door, inviting us in. He was talking so fast that I could barely comprehend what he was saying. It reminded me somewhat of a squirrel. I stayed outside for a moment, retrieving our bags from the cab and paying the driver. They were heavy, but I managed to carry them, even though I was waddling like a duck. I pushed the door open and set the bags down. I looked around, and Charles and Erik were nowhere to be found. I assumed that they had either gone into the sitting room to talk, or to see Erik's mother. I looked around the entry room curiously. This was where Erik had grown up.

The entry room was slightly old, but it had a certain charm to it, and I had no doubt that at one time this style had been the height of fashion. I traced my fingers over a mahogany end table. I looked at the flowers that were sitting on it; they had wilted some time ago, and the petals were gathered around the bottom of the vase. The vase was clearly crystal, with gilded edges. Despite the outdated look to it, it had an expensive air to it.

I took a left, and found myself in the drawing room. I looked around. The room was well lit, and had a well-cared for pianoforte on the eastern wall. There were beautiful paintings hung on the walls, all by an unknown artist to me. The signature was clearly female, and had a flowing ease to it that reminded me of Erik's handwriting. My eyes wandered to an eggshell wall with a rocking chair in it. I was startled to find that the chair had a person in it. I assumed that she was Marianna, Erik's mother. She was looking at me intently, with those same hazel eyes that her son had. I walked over to her quietly.

"You must be Erik's mother," I said quietly, resting my hand over hers, and I knelt by the chair so as to be at the same level as her. Everything about the woman was petite: her nose, her hands, and her mouth, everything except her eyes. Her eyes were large and round. She was a beauty, and very much aware of her surroundings. She blinked at me. "He's here, you know. He came to see you," I murmured. Marianna's eyes lit up, and I could tell she was happy. "We became acquainted with Jacques and Lynnette on the train ride over here…" Her eyes darkened. Apparently no one really cared for Jacques. "He was taking me here to visit my father's grave," I said sadly. "I believe he and M. Girard, your husband, are talking in the sitting room." She smiled at me. Well, at least a presumed it was a smile. Her mouth moved a little, and I saw a little flash of her teeth. I told her everything. And I mean everything. I told her how Erik and I met, how he revealed himself to me, and my internal struggle between the romantic idea of being with Raoul, and my deeper draw to be with Erik. I had a feeling that she would become a confidante with me. She listened patiently, not that she really had any choice, but I was grateful to have someone to talk to that I didn't have to worry about my secrets being revealed. She lifted her hand, and patted my cheek affectionately. Erik and Charles chose that moment to come in. Marianna's eye lit up, and she uttered a little bleat of joy upon seeing Erik. I smiled up tearfully at the two of them.

"Well, Christine," Charles said. "It seems you have become acquainted with my wife, no?" I nodded, flicking the tears from my face. Erik's face became concerned upon seeing the tears, but I shook my head in the slightest, indicating that it wasn't anything to worry about. Not that he needed to worry about, anyway. Erik came forward and knelt on the other side of the rocking chair. I moved to stand; Marianna gripped my hand so tightly that I stayed. She took it and placed it over Erik's. I blushed profusely, and I think that Erik was too, if you only could have seen it. Marianna held ours hand for a moment longer, and then let them go, and I stood up. More from embarrassment or from the want to give Erik some privacy with his mother, I wasn't sure.

Charles pulled me aside after a minute or two. "How long were you two planning on staying?" he asked quietly. I shrugged.

"I'm not sure. This was really a spur of the moment thing, M. Girard," I said in the same low tone.

"Please, call me Charles," he said, smiling at me. He reminded me of Daddy when he did that, with the tender smile and kind eyes that had smile-wrinkles around them. I nodded.

"As you wish. I was under the impression that Erik's mother died?" I said quietly, and Charles pulled me out of the room by my elbow.

"No, mademoiselle. She was brought to the doctor in time… But she has always blamed herself for the boy being abducted…, although now that boy has become a man, I see. You will always have my eternal gratefulness for bringing him home." I smiled at him.

"It was a mere coincidence… Will you wife regain the ability to talk?" I asked in a hushed voice. I felt awful that I was being so invasive, but I liked Marianna and Charles, and I hoped that she would make a full recovery.

Charles sighed. "The doctor said that it was a possibility. And I hope that after seeing Erik again, if gives her the little nudge she needs to talk again," he said. "We have yet to find a way to communicate quickly. Yes, there's always a pad and paper, but that takes too long sometimes, I'm afraid. She is also incapable of moving herself from one place to another, so it is necessary that I am with her most of the day. I nodded understanding. "It is my hope that you and Erik stay for a while. I assume you are his wife?" I shook my head quickly. Did he not hear me what I said Erik was my teacher? Not that it really mattered.

"No. He is my teacher. I also work at the Opera Garnier as a performer. I will speak with Erik about how long he wishes to stay," I murmured quietly as I felt a sudden pang of fear that I would be returning to Paris alone. Of course I would understand if Erik chose to stay, but that didn't mean that I wouldn't miss him terribly.

"Oh. It's very clear that Erik cares about you deeply, mademoiselle," Charles said kindly. I blushed. "Perhaps we can bring your things up stairs so you can make yourself comfortable while you stay here." I nodded.

"I'd like that." In the drawing room, I could hear Erik start to play a piece, and then stop and open up the piano to tune it. I chuckled and shook my head on the way up the stairs. In maybe fifteen minutes, that piano would be tuned to perfection.

Charles showed me to the guestroom, and I set my luggage on the bed, thanking him multiple times for his hospitality, but where would Erik sleep? He answered that they had a smaller room on the first floor where Erik could stay, and not to worry. I nodded and began unpacking. Charles left and I took longer in unpacking than I normally would, to give the three of them time together. Perhaps Erik and I could stay another few days, if not a week. I hoped that that would be enough time, because then I would certainly have to go back to the Opera house, or risk losing my job. Although I had a feeling that Erik wouldn't let that happen. Assuming he went back. What would happen if he didn't? The Opera would go downhill quickly, that was certain. And most of the staff and performers would lose their jobs, with nowhere to go and no means to support themselves. It would be horrible. I knew that I could find a home with the Giry's, but only for a time. I could stay there for a month, perhaps, and then they wouldn't be able to support a third person, but I knew they wouldn't say anything. No, they would dip into poverty because of me.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes. A life without Erik may or may not be worth living. Granted, I would still be able to see him perhaps once a month if he stayed here. And I could always give up my career at the Opera. I discarded the thought. Erik wouldn't want me to do that just for him. But I knew I would, if worst came to worst. I sighed. Erik may not stay, I reminded myself. You're probably getting worked up over nothing. But then again, he hadn't seen his parents in probably 15 years. I felt like I was a bad luck charm.

I stood up. I headed out of my room, knowing that if I went out, I would be forced to push those thoughts from my mind and act like everything was just peachy. Not for the first time, I was grateful for the acting skills that the Opera had given me. I could hear pots clanging in the kitchen, and I followed my nose.

Something smelled like it was simmering, maybe eggs. I wondered briefly if it was Erik. To my dismay, it was Erik _and_ his father, and they were both covered in flour, as was most of the kitchen. "Oh, my goodness…" I said. "What happened in here?"

"Well," Erik began, and then shuffled his feet with embarrassment.

"Ok, you know what? Neither of you move," I said, dashing out of the room to retrieve Marianna. Like most women, I knew she would get a kick out of two grown men attempting to cook and failing miserably. I wheeled her into the kitchen on the wheelchair that I had failed to notice earlier, and faced her in the direction of Erik and Charles. "Two generations," I said. "And they still can't do it!" Marianna tried to laugh, but it came out a strangled gargle. There was a moment's pause and then the rest of us started laughing as well.

"You two, get out of here, and entertain her, and I'll make supper." Charles left readily, but Erik hesitated. "You can stay if you want," I whispered. He probably wanted to express his glee at finding his parents; at least that's what I presumed.

Erik and I watched Charles wheel Marianna out of the room, and after waiting a few seconds, Erik said, "Thank you, Christine." I merely nodded and went to sweeping the flour off the counters, and, eventually, off of Erik. He watched me throughout, and this time I didn't object, because I knew he was waiting for me to say something. He knew me far too well to believe that everything was fine. I plopped the rag down on the counter, and took out a pan. I was careful to avoid eye contact.

"Will you stay?" I asked quietly, picking spices out of the cabinet as well as the meat that had been set out. I made sure to keep my back to Erik, for fear that if I looked at him, I would burst into tears. There was a long pause, and I worried that, yes, he would stay. I chopped the beef shank and started frying it in an attempt to keep myself busy.

"No."

I froze, and then hurriedly resumed cooking.

"I assumed you would stay," I said, trying to make my tone light. I could hear him stepping closer to me.

"No." I closed my eyes.

"Is that all you can say?" I snapped. I didn't know why I was being so cranky, but I supposed that I had put myself under so much duress about this situation that it was only fitting.

"No." I whirled around, ready to let him have it, but the words died on my lips for some reason beyond me, even today. I just stood there, staring at him.

He was in his usual attire, but there was something about him that made me still. The way he held himself was… different than what he had before. I realized that he was happy—or had been, up until this conversation.

Dinner was eaten in relative silence, except for the clinking of silverware. As soon as it was over, I excused myself and cleaned everyone's plate from the table and did dishes. I grabbed my cloak and went out the front door, not stopping for Erik's calls. I went as far away as I dared, letting my feet take me where they would, until I ended up in front of Daddy's grave.

I sank to my knees, weeping bitterly. "Oh, Daddy, what am I to do if he stays?"

No answer. Not that I really expected one.

"Christine…" a voice whispered my name in the wind.

"Oh, go away, Erik," I muttered angrily. I knew he wanted to stay, and I didn't understand why he chose not to.

"Christine, I love you," it murmured again. I shook my head. The voice was familiar, as if from the past.

"Daddy?" I whimpered. The wind blew around my ears gently.

"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, and yearning for my guidance." the voice seemed to pulse, as if it were a real being.

"Oh, Daddy, tell me what I should do," I begged. The wind seemed to grow impatient.

"I cannot," it said brokenly. "But perhaps music can help…" I nodded. Music was always Daddy's answer to everything. He went there in times of grief, and of happiness, and it had become my refuge as well. The sound of a violin playing slowly filled the air, and I closed my eyes, willing my mind to become blank.

"Christine!" My eyes flew open, and I looked around. There was a lean figure about 30 feet away from me, and I recognized it as Raoul.

"Raoul," I said. "What are you doing here?" I rose from my kneeling position.

"Looking for you, of course, Lotte," he said, taking my hands. "You left without saying goodbye."

"To be fair, I left without saying goodbye to anyone," I said, looking up at him. He had a bit of a five o' clock shadow teasing his face, and he seemed jovial, as always.

"Humph," he said teasingly. "Well, next time, do me a favor and say goodbye to me in person, very well?" I nodded.

"I'll do my best. When did you arrive?"

"Just yesterday, Christine. I thought, perhaps that I had seen you in town once or twice, but my eyes deceived me both times. Then I finally thought to come here. It seems I caught you at just the right time." I smiled at him wearily.

"Yes I suppose you did."

"_Christine…"_

"Raoul, did you hear that?" I asked anxiously.

"Hear what, Lotte? I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Nothing. I must be hearing things, is all. I thought for a moment I heard—"

"_Christine, Christine…"_ I drew closer to Raoul. That voice sounded nothing like Erik's, and I was frightened.

"I heard that," Raoul said. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

I looked around the cemetery. I had never really been superstitious, but now I was beginning to question my beliefs. I felt the sudden urge to cross myself, and I did so. Raoul put me behind himself protectively, but I didn't think that it would do much good, seeing as we had no clue what direction the voice was coming from.

Erik came into sight a ways away, and I could tell it was him because he was so tall. It was possible that Erik could have altered his voice, and if he had, he'd be getting an earful from me. Eventually Raoul calmed down, and he started talking to me, since apparently he hadn't noticed Erik's approach, but when Erik did come near, Raoul bristled.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I might ask you the same thing," Erik said, his voice deceptively calm.

I watched the two of them with trepidation, backing away slowly. All I had wanted was to be alone, but even that had been denied me. Raoul and Erik's hackles were both raised, and it frightened me. If Erik assaulted Raoul, he could go to prison—or be hanged. I trembled at the thought.

"What business do you have coming here with Christine on a personal trip? I was under the impression that you were her _teacher_," Raoul hissed.

"I am the one who provided Christine with the means of coming here, Raoul. And she should not travel unaccompanied," Erik growled in a low voice.

"Well, I could just as easily have come with her!"

"Perhaps," Erik said, rolling his shoulders. He would not be the one to make the first move. No, he would let Raoul do that, lest he be charged of assault. Erik knew the law well. "But certain _things _could have been implied about the Vicomte and his mistress. No, it was much more proper for her teacher to accompany her." Tears sprang to my eyes at Erik's words. Did he not realize that he was hurting me more than Raoul?

"It's very clear to me," Raoul said with an air of arrogance, "That your feelings for Christine venture very far from the realm of teacher and pupil." Erik actually growled at that comment.

"You would dare to compromise Ms. Daae's honor?"

"No! No, I would never think of it. But perhaps you already have!"

"Raoul!" I shrieked. I was ignored totally.

"How dare you!" Erik spat. "I have, and never will approach my student in such a manner!"

"Oh, really? Then whose was that voice in the wind? I have heard of the Opera Ghost, and I will certainly prove that you are he!"

"I am not he, I can assure you, M. Vicomte," Erik said, his voice dangerously low. "I think you would find it hard to convict me, since you do not even know my name!" Erik laughed maniacally. I shuddered. This was certainly the Opera Ghost, not Erik. Not my Erik. I closed my eyes in disgust.

"_Would both of you just stop it?" _I yelled at the top of my lungs, which was fairly loud, considering my training. I stormed forward and slapped Raoul across the face, and stomped Erik on the arch of his foot. Both men were stunned into a shocked silence.

"No, both of you will stop fighting, or so help me God, I will never see either of you again," I vowed angrily. Raoul nodded dumbly, and Erik blinked confirmation. "Now," I said, regaining my composure. "Both of you will please leave me be, or suffer dire consequences," I threatened. "I just wished to be left alone, and I cannot even have some privacy," I muttered.

"Christine—" Erik started, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"Leave me," I said darkly. When neither of them made a move to leave, I stomped my foot. "Oh, for pity's sake! Just leave!" Raoul reluctantly turned around and left the cemetery. Erik hesitated a moment, murmured an apology, and left, looking very forlorn. My brow furrowed at that sight. Erik must have been very embarrassed. Usually he was so calm and collected, but he was obviously having control issues.

I sank down in front of Daddy's grave again. "Daddy? Are you still there?"

Silence.

I sighed sadly and leaned myself up against his grave marker and wept.

I wasn't sure how long I wept for, but it was long enough to cry myself to sleep. I rubbed my puffy eyes, and realized that it was dark out. I was surprised that Erik hadn't come looking for me.

"_Christine…_" There it was again. The voice. God, what was it with me and voices. They followed me everywhere.

"Yes?" I murmured, not really sure where this would go.

"_Christine, I love you…_" it breathed, tickling my ear. I twisted in that direction. Nothing. I shivered. But whether from cold or fear, I wasn't sure.

"Would that I could say the same thing, voice. But I do not know your speaker, I'm afraid. To whom does this voice belong?" I queried.

"_Someone of no importance,_" it whispered. I rolled my eyes, not really caring whether it could see me or not.

"I'm not in the best of moods, voice, so either you tell me your name, or I'll not speak to you," I said flatly.

"_I am Multo,"_ it whispered. I made a face.

"Multo? Of what origin is that?"

"_It doesn't matter."_ I rolled my eyes again.

"Fine. What do you want, voice?"

"Christine, I love you…" I whirled around to see Erik standing there, surrounded my the forming mist, giving him an eerie look.


	15. My Erik

**Yay! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed (funnygirl00, Phantom Serenity, rhsberg, and Lady Cavalier, though she hadn't reviewed in a while.) But still, thank you everyone. I suppose this would be an appropriate time to hand everyone a virtual treat of some kind, haha. I hope everyone likes cheesecake. *shifty eyes* Oh, and two things before the story: 1) Multo means "ghost" in some other language. I went to a lot of trouble on google translate to find something that wasn't "fantasma" and I've forgotten the name of the language. Take from that what you will. 2) I'm going in for a trial Opera lesson next Friday! Huzzah!**

**Okay, here's the story, which I hope you all are enjoying.**

I stood, dumbstruck. "W-w-what?" I stuttered out. Erik took a step closer, dissipating the mist around him.

"Christine… I love you." He reached out and stroked my cheek gently. I closed my eyes at the caress. Images of the earlier fight flashed through my mind, but I pushed them away.

"Is your foot all right?" I asked, somewhat groggily. He nodded.

"Christine, I love you," he whispered. I briefly remembered the kitchen scene. I wouldn't mind Erik saying this a lot, though, I thought with amusement. It felt nice, hearing someone utter those three little words that could bring a person to cloud nine. I opened my eyes to find Erik looking at me earnestly, waiting for my answer. Did I love him? Yes. Or did I love his music? Yes. I loved both.

"Erik Girard," I said. "I love you too."

And he kissed me. Oh, how he kissed me. I was on a high that I never wanted to leave. The kiss was everything and nothing all at once: tender, deep, passionate, scared, relieved. That kiss defined that word love for me. Erik put his whole soul into my hands at the moment he said those three words that every woman longs to hear, and it was my job not to break it. And I, in return, had put everything I was into his hands: my dreams, hopes, fears, longings—everything. At that moment, I think Erik and I understood each other completely.

Erik pulled me in close and rested his forehead on mine, and we rocked to the pulse of unheard music for countless minutes, perhaps even hours.

My Erik.

We walked back to the house slowly; fingers entwined together, each of us wearing a small smile on our face. I leaned slightly against him and I felt in my heart that Erik would be there for me always, no matter what, even if we never said vows. Of course, I wasn't planning on _not_ saying vows with the man that I was in love with.

Upon reaching the house, we said our goodnights, and I went up to my room as silently as I could, so as not to disturb Charles or Marianna. I knew Erik wouldn't have any trouble keeping quiet; he was a master at it.

Laying in my bed, thinking the random thoughts that most think before falling asleep, it occurred to me that I was going to have to tell Raoul that I wasn't going to see him as anything but a friend anymore. He would not be happy about that. Oh well, I thought. He'll get over it.

**A short chapter, but I felt that it was justified due to the happiness of it. And don't worry, this story isn't anywhere close to done, because we still have several large events: "The Ball Masque", "Bye Bye Joseph Buquet, and "The Chandelier"… And I totally felt like an announcer on one of those paid programming channels, talking about cheesy songs from the '80's. Oh, and another before I leave you to review (hopefully), this story was originally inspired by "My Phantom: The Memoir of Christine Daae". I must warn, though, if you're looking for a different ending than the original book, don't read. I bought, I read, and I cried. Very good, though. Anways, I'll leave you now.**


	16. Plans

**So, here's yet another chapter from moi. I'm trying to give you plenty of material before I leave for a few days at the beginning of Feb. (Jesus Culture, anyone?), and will not have any means of uploading new chapters. So please, if you can, restrain yourself. Haha, totally kidding. I'll try and get like a ton of chapters done this weekend, and then get ahead and just submit a bunch like the day before I leave. (Leaving on a Thursday, by the way. Won't be back until Sunday, which means, probably, no chapters until Tuesday.) Onward and upward with the story, shall we?**

I swung my legs out of bed, still half asleep. I half-smiled, remembering last night's kiss. I could still feel Erik's lips on mine. I sighed dreamily. I had chosen the life that I wanted, and I wasn't being around stuffy aristocrats that wouldn't' accept me. It was a romantic thought, yes, but not the life for me. What girl doesn't dream of being a princess at some point in her life?

Picking out the pale yellow dress that Raoul had bought me, seeing as Erik had yet to buy me the green one again, I laid it out on the bed. I took my time getting dressed and doing my hair, but when it was done, I was satisfied with the way I looked. The pale yellow accented my golden-brown skin, for my mother was Italian, and the white lace on the trim gave me a delicate air. My hair was left in its usual curls, but it was put up in a bun, with two ringlets hanging near my face. My lips had a touch of rouge on them, just enough to bring out the natural pinkness in them, which, in turn, brought out my eyes. I was indeed satisfied with the way I looked.

It was true, though, that I hadn't the faintest idea of what my plans were for the day, but I supposed that I could always change clothes, if need be. I opened the door to my bedroom, walking down the small hallway that led to the stairs, and as I reached the bottom, Erik was there to greet me with a kiss on the head. I blushed.

"Erik," I whispered, "What about your parents?" He chuckled.

"I wouldn't' worry about it, Christine. They still sleep. It is but early yet, and I am surprised to find that you are awake."

I smiled. "Yes, well, before you came and found me, _Multo_, I had a little nap." Erik's eyes narrowed.

"Multo? You would take to calling me "ghost", Christine?" I looked up at him sharply.

"You mean… You weren't the voice in the wind?"

"What voice in the wind?"

"There was a voice, yesterday, Erik, and it spoke to me. Much the way you did when you were still Angel." Erik seemed to ponder this for a moment.

"If it had the same effect, the voice would have to be a very good ventriloquist, Christine. Perhaps even better than I, for I have only met with limited success outside. There are too many variables, the wind, weather, background noise…"

"So… it wasn't you?"

"I'm afraid not, Christine."

"Raoul heard it yesterday, too," I said, looking up at Erik, trying to see if there was any hint of jealousy there. There wasn't, I was pleased to observe.

"So, that rules out you going insane," I hit him playfully. "There can't be many ventriloquists around, here, though. So when my father wakes, I'll have to ask him."

"You might also consider asking him if there have been reported "hauntings" at the cemetery… Daddy spoke to me, too. There was he, and the voice… You're positive that it wasn't you?" Erik gave me an impatient look.

"Yes, Christine, I'm sure it wasn't me," he huffed. I raised an eyebrow to make sure, and he met my gaze steadily.

"Very well," I said. "I'll start breakfast so that when your parents wake, things will be ready."

There was a knock at the door, and both of our heads swiveled in that direction. "I'll get it," I said. "If it's Raoul, it would be best if I was the one talking to him and not you." Erik nodded.

"I'll just be in the next room, should you need anything." I smiled and headed to the door. I unlocked it and opened it a peep to see who it was, before opening it wider to reveal myself to the visitor, which was, in fact, Raoul.

"Christine, good morning," he said. I inclined my head in greeting. "I had heard that you were staying here, and I thought I might come pay a visit."

"This early?" I asked skeptically. Something wasn't quite right.

"Yes, well, I wanted to make sure you were well, since you're staying at a private address, and your teacher seems to be in none of the inns or hotels," he remarked.

"That's odd," I said. "He said he would be staying at "The Lion's Head" while we were here. Oh, you know hotels and inns are inclined to keep their customers personal information a secret, so he's probably somewhere, the innkeeper probably wasn't inclined to tell you his clients, though."

"Perhaps," Raoul remarked doubtfully. "But why are you staying here?"

"Daddy was friends with this couple when we lived here, and they invited me to stay with them. I accepted, and it's been very pleasant."

"Ah, I see… May I come in?" I shook my head.

"I'm afraid not, Raoul, they are still sleeping, and I wouldn't' want to wake them." He nodded understanding.

"Well, I'll just have to stop by this afternoon, then."

"Raoul, please, it's not necessary."

"You've never objected to my company before," he said, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, well, Raoul, I have plans this afternoon." Liar, I thought to myself. You should just tell him he should stop pursuing you.

"You should have said so in the first place, Christine," he chuckled with an amused look on his face.

"Raoul, listen, I have to talk to you," I said seriously. I could tell I had his full attention now. Good, I thought, you need to take something seriously. "I wish you would stop pursuing me," I said, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I don't wish to stop seeing you entirely; it's not that at all, I just don't wish for you to pursue me in hopes of a future relationship."

"Why not?" The question was so obvious and predictable, and yet I hesitated. That hesitation let Raoul come to his own conclusions. "It's your teacher, isn't' it? I knew he felt something beyond friendship for you," he muttered.

"No, Raoul, it's not him," I said, because it was true to a certain degree. "I'm not in love with my teacher." I wasn't in love with Erik as my teacher, I was strictly his pupil, but when Erik wasn't my teacher, I loved him dearly.

"Then who?"

"Is it important?" I snapped back, and I could tell I had stung Raoul's pride. He actually physically winced.

"Christine, please. _I love you._" I could tell this was a last-ditch effort to keep me. And maybe he did love me, but I loved Erik, and that made a world of difference. I sighed and leaned on the doorframe.

"Raoul, please don't make me feel any worse than I already do. This is difficult enough for me." And it was. I had never rejected a man before, not that there had been any to reject—Erik had made sure of that. I felt tears rise in my eyes, but I quelled them; the last thing I wanted to do was ruin my makeup.

"So then you do feel something for me?" I nodded affirmation. How could I not? He was attractive, wealthy, and was pleasant to be around. What girl wouldn't? He sighed in relief. "Well, if anything ever happens and things don't work out, keep me in mind. And I'd like to meet him, Lotte. Could that be arranged?" I nodded.

"Yes, but he's very, so I'll let you know." I smiled at him sadly and slowly shut the door, leaning against it and taking several deep breaths.

"You handled that well, I thought." That was Erik, stepping in from the other room. He took my hand and brushed his knuckles against it. I smiled at him gratefully.

"Thanks," I said, rubbing the back of my neck shyly. He had heard the whole conversation. "You heard everything, then?" I had to make sure.

"Yes." I looked at the ground shamefully. How could I love Erik and still have feelings for another? What was wrong with me? I clearly had issues. I felt like banging my head against the wall in frustration. God, what was wrong with me?

"Christine, I understand." What? "I know that Raoul has everything I don't. Money, a title, and a pretty face," he said, scorn clearly evident in his voice. "And yet, by some miracle, you chose me. A gargoyle in everything but name."

"Erik," I stepped closer to him. "You're not a gargoyle, not a monster, not a demon, and not the devil's child. You're a man. A perfectly wonderful, amazing man." I hugged him.

We stood like that for some moments, until Charles walked in. "Well, good morning, young people," he said, clearing his throat. Erik and I broke apart regretfully, albeit with a hint of embarrassment.

"Good morning, monsieur," I said politely, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in my dress. Charles smiled at me.

"Well, don't you look lovely," he commented. "Any particular occasion?" I blushed.

"No, sir."

"Do young ladies usually dress like that in Paris?"

"No…, sir." That left only one option—I wanted to impress Erik. I glanced up at him, and I could tell he was slightly uncomfortable, having realized that I had dressed up for him. Charles chuckled.

"Well, I suppose I'll bring Marianna out, if she's up."

It turned out she was, and Erik and I made breakfast and that meal was certainly more amiable than the previous night's meal. There were a few laughs, but Marianna had trouble eating what I cooked, and I resolved not to cook food of that nature any longer; at least while we were here. I'd have to talk to Erik about that, anyway. I cleaned up dishes silently, and Erik came up behind me and put his hands on my waist lightly. I smiled, leaning against him. His body was so firm, and I took a certain comfort in it. I heard him sigh contently.

"Christine, I love you," he said into my hair, making it sound muffled. Then he suddenly starting making noises, like a raspberry combined with spitting. I turned around, and Erik was fidgeting with his tongue, like a dog lapping up water.

"Erik, whatever is the matter?" He looked at me, still making that lapping motion.

"I got some of your hairs in my mouth," he managed to say, before pulling a long, curly brown hair out of his mouth. "Would you like this back?" he asked teasingly.

"No, thanks," I said, giggling some. He then promptly put the hair in the trash can. "Erik, how much longer are we planning on staying here?" I asked, curious.

"Not more than a few days, Christine," he said. "The Opera's season is nearing its end, and the is still one more Opera to open yet, to which I believe you already know your part, and we have also the ball masque to attend, if you will have me?" I nodded.

"Oh, Erik, I promised Raoul you would meet him. You don't mind, do you?" his gaze darkened.

"I don't see how that would be possible, Christine, given our confrontation the other night at the cemetery."

"But what about at the ball masque? You could still have your mask, and Raoul could still meet you, no?" I tried, glancing up at him from a plate I had been drying.

"I suppose that would work, but you know that we would have to leave before the unmasking at midnight, correct?" I nodded.

"Yes, I'm aware… Will the Phantom make an appearance, also?" I questioned, looking up at him.

"How could he not? It would be rude for him to not show his face, Christine," Erik chided me gently. I rolled my eyes.

"Mm-hmm. I daresay that you'll frighten the managers out of their wits by crashing their party, Phantom. I suppose that you already have a costume picked out?"

"Yes, actually, I have. He'll be going as the Red Death from Poe's literature. As for myself, I've no clue."

"We could go as a couple from a play, or a book, couldn't we? That would be romantic," I said dreamily. Erik gave me a pleased look.

"Yes, we could. And we shall, if will please you," he said.

"Oh, it certainly would, Erik! Perhaps Romeo and Juliet?" He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and I pushed on. "It would be neat to go as two famous lovers, neither being able to bear life without the other? I certainly think that it describes our situation well… Besides the death part, of course. I do not think that that shall be our fate."

"Very well, love. It shall be as you say. Perhaps my mother has a suitable dress. You look to be about the same size as she, and if not, there is still ample time for it to be altered." I smiled.

"That sounds perfect, Erik." I rested my head on his chest, sighing contently.

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it had some fluff, some heartbreak (on Raoul's part, anyway.) More chapters at regular intervals, hopefully. And I've recently talked to Erik, and he says he'll send each reviewer an autographed mask. Now, I must remind you, he does live in another time, so there may be glitches in receiving it. I cannot take any blame for that, just know that you should have gotten one (that is, if you didn't).**


	17. Idle Gossip?

**My keyboarding has been really screwed up these last few days, so if there's any weird typos in this chapter, please ignore, or let me know, that would be good, too.**

Those next few days seemed to fly by at the Girard's home. We had set up a somewhat daily routine and followed it fairly regularly. Erik and I would cook breakfast, we'd eat, Erik and I would clean up breakfast, and then we'd all go into the sitting room and chat for a while. After lunch, everyone went about their own business. Most days I'd sit and talk with Marianna, who made feeble attempts at speaking, at which point I would smile at her sadly and pat her hand. I refrained to tell her, though, as Erik refrained from telling his father, our profession of love to one another. It was of unspoken mutual consent. I didn't see the point in telling them, much as I wanted to, until Erik and I were engaged, and I didn't know how soon that would be. We hadn't even approached such things.

So, as Erik and I prepared our bags to leave, I looked on curiously as Charles took his son aside, and I saw Erik's eyes go misty. I decided not to question what was going on, as it seemed private, but Erik came back looking proud of himself. We smiled at each other said farewell to his parents, and headed out the door to an impatient cab driver. We loaded our things in the back, and started the long, trying ride home.

"Oh, thank heaven that's over!" I said, stretching my shoulders while stepping off the train. Erik nodded agreement. He looked sore, and I took my suitcase from him. The day before we had left, Erik had arranged for his father to receive glasses so that he could see, and Marianna had received a lap easel so she could paint. I would miss both of them. Seeing them had healed some of Erik's wounds, and I was glad of that.

"Christine," Erik said suddenly, and I turned to look at him, a happy expression on my face. That only seemed to pain him more. "I cannot enter the Opera house with you, you know that." My expression darkened instantly. What a way to end a mostly-happy trip! I humphed unpleasantly.

"I know. I'll be in to see you tonight, though," I said. He shook his head.

"No, you won't."

"What?" I was baffled. "We've only weeks until the end of the season, and I cannot see you?"

"You will still me at the ball masque, love. Do not fear. I will see to it that we keep in contact, but I cannot see you in person for the time being. There is too much talking going on..," he said softly, with a cryptic tone.

"What sort of talking?" I inquired, interest aroused.

"You would not like it," he warned. I shrugged. If people were saying things about me, I wanted to know, whether they be good or ill. Erik spoke again, "They say you are the Opera Ghost's whore."

I staggered back at that statement. They thought _what_? They thought I was a common prostitute? How dare they! I had been nothing but nice to any and all of them, and they spread rumors about me _now? _I was fuming.

"You and I know it is not true, and that is enough." And with that, Erik swept off into the crowd. I was speechless. Absolutely speechless. It was probably Carlotta who had spread them, I thought bitterly. Waving a cab down, I attempted to calm my thoughts.

I was completely unsuccessful.

Upon reaching the Opera house, I was more furious than ever about the whole situation. The injustice of the whole situation was enough to send me over the edge. These past few days had been emotionally stressful enough. I didn't need this as well! I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, and at the same time I wanted to growl and snap at anybody who came near me. Except, perhaps, for Meg. She would know what to do, I hoped. If I wasn't to see Erik tonight, she and I could go out and talk, without fear of being overheard by anyone who might comprehend what we were saying.

So, Meg and I went out as soon as both of us were available. I sat down in the café with a huff. "Meg, I really need to talk to you."

"What is it?" she asked, placing one hand over my own.

"Meg, you remember that friend I told you about a while ago?" She nodded. "Well, she's not really a friend. She's… me." I sighed, and looked up at Meg fearfully. She was smiling, and starting to laugh.

"Christine, I know. I'm not I _that _naïve, dear." I was both relieved and shocked. Mostly relieved. In fact, the shocked probably only lasted about half a second. I was so happy that she knew. "So, whom have you chosen? Raoul or… the other?"

I smiled at her wearily. "The other," I said.

"So you did follow your heart. Fantastic. Will he be bringing you to the ball masque? What is that in? Almost three days, now?" Yes, it was in three days, and I still hadn't seen hide nor hair of Erik. Fantastic. I nodded, though.

"Yes, we'll be going as Romeo and Juliet." I smiled quietly at the thought. I hoped that Raoul brought a date, for my sake and his own. "Is it true that people think I am the Phantom's whore?" I asked suddenly.

Meg looked absolutely stunned at my question. "What?" I repeated myself. "How did you hear about that, Christine? You'd been away this whole time." I glared at her suspiciously. "I had heard whispers of something like that, and then Marcus told me I shouldn't affiliate with you any longer, you being the way you were. He just… didn't understand the full scope of the situation."

"Didn't? You told him?" This outing was not going the way I had hoped. Meg nodded guiltily. I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Do you know who started this whole thing?" I asked.

Meg snorted. "Who do you think? Of course it was Carlotta. She's always felt threatened by you," Meg said, looking at me intently. Carlotta? Threatened by me? Ha. The thought was enough to make me laugh. I thought I'd have a few words with that lady once Meg and I got back to the Opera house.

**Okay, next chapter will include: cat fight, Masquerade, and drama. Hopefully. We'll see how it pans out. I'm just making this up as I go.**


	18. Un Ballo in Maschero

"You're a pig-headed selfish dog!" I blared. There was utter silence throughout the auditorium. Carlotta had just made a particularly hurtful comment, and I had had enough of it. She had the gall to say "What happened, Christine? Did you not get your nightly romp?" Of course, she said in it a horribly cheesy Italian accent. Carlotta always claimed that she was from Italy, but everyone knew better. She was born in France. Her skin was too pale, and her hair was too fair, although she wasn't blond.

"Parrrrrrdon me?"

"I believe you heard me, Carlotta. But I shall repeat myself, because you must be having trouble hearing at your advanced age. I called you a pig-headed selfish dog." Carlotta's face made an "o" of shock.

"How darrrrre you, you… you whorrrre!" Carlotta stamped her foot for emphasis. "Imma going to rrrrrrip you to shrrrrreds!" her hands, shall I call them claws?, came towards my throat, and I swatted them away, and Carlotta flew past me. I started to walk away, but I was tackled from behind by my nemesis. My hands broke my fall, and I lay on my stomach. There wasn't a whole lot that Carlotta could do while I was in this position. She couldn't choke, slap, or punch me, really. So I just lay there, and let Carlotta expend her energy on my back. Yes, I'd have a few bruises, probably, but they would be easily covered by my dresses.

Carlotta finally decided that she had taught me a lesson, and got off of me. No one had interfered, at which I wasn't really surprised. They all feared Carlotta too much. But, as Carlotta stood, I twitched my leg out to the side, tripping her. She landed with a loud thump on the stage, and I stood up and walked out of the auditorium wordlessly, Meg trailing behind me.

Perhaps tripping Carlotta wasn't the most honorable move, but I did it, and it had managed to make Carlotta land on her ass. I was fairly proud of myself. Meg was whispering something to me about how brave I was, and how could I do something like that?

"Yes, Meg, I'm aware that Carlotta will have it out for me, thank you," I said, opening up the door to my dressing room. Meg scurried in and I shut the door behind her. She was looking at me.

"There will certainly be talk now, Christine," Meg said rationally. I rolled my eyes. I was a little testy at that moment.

"I know, Meg. Now will you please just stop pestering me?" I snapped. Meg looked abashed. She nodded, though, and I felt bad. "I'm sorry, Meg, I'm just a little wound up." I sat myself down on the mattress, since Meg had taken the divan, and sighed, rubbing my temples. Erik had better show up to the ball, I thought bitterly. Else I really would be considered the Phantom's whore. I snorted. Erik, use me like that? Not likely. "Meg, I'm sorry, but I need to rest, I don't mean to be rude, I just… can you please go?" I asked sheepishly. Yes, I was tired, but that wasn't the reason why I wanted her to go. I needed to go to my alcove, the one I hadn't visited in so long.

Meg was nodding understanding. "I'll let you know if anything interesting happens, Christine," she promised, and she whisked herself out the door. I groaned and threw on my cloak; it would be cold in my alcove, and I certainly didn't want to get sick two days before the ball masque. I crept down the halls until I reached a small groove in the wall, and I pulled on it. Erik, I remembered, had shown me this way down to my alcove.

I reached my destination quickly, and I was pleased to find that my little stool was still there. I sat on it and looked around. This was the one place in the entirety of the Opera house that I considered my own. Erik's house was his house, and my dressing room could be taken away at any moment, should a more promising talent come to rise. But I would always have this little room.

"Erik?" I murmured hopefully. I missed him terribly. I hadn't seen him in a few weeks now. It depressed me, I thought. I thought I felt the air shift, but I must have been imagining things, because Erik never came. After sitting in the same position for Lord-knows-how-long, I had had enough. "That's it," I muttered. I clasped the key around my neck, and headed out into the Parisian night. I found the little door and unlocked it, entering without anyone seeing me. I travelled down the dark paths that I had come to know so well, until I came upon the lake.

No Erik.

So, I approached the boat and looked around tentatively. I sighed. He wasn't coming. So, I gathered my courage, and grabbed the boat with one hand to stead it while I climbed in. I was scared out of my wits doing this. I didn't have anger spurring me on like last time, and I had an even greater fear of boats after nearly drowning.

I sat down with as much care as I could muster. I grabbed the paddle and started rowing. I was careful to keep the lone chandelier that Erik had placed there somehow to my left. He had explained this to me, saying, "Always keep the chandelier to your left, Christine. If you don't, you are liable to wander the lake for a long, long time. I did, and that is when I placed the chandelier up there." You wouldn't notice the chandelier if you didn't know it was there, and so, I was careful to keep the chandelier always to my left, and soon enough I reached the other shore, about thirty feet or so from Erik's home. I hopped out carefully and pulled the boat up onto the shore so it wouldn't drift away.

I listened carefully for a long moment, and didn't hear his large organ playing, so I proceeded a bit more quietly than I would have normally. Quite frankly, I was surprised I had made it across the lake by myself. I wasn't sure whether to be proud or dismayed. If I could make it across without Erik, then he wouldn't have to meet me anymore. And since he didn't have to meet me anymore, that was step towards independence, wasn't it? And yet it saddened me.

Erik wouldn't have to meet me anymore.

I crept towards the front door, and I heard murmuring voices.

"…Daroga, honestly. Why can't you believe that she really loves me? Surely you don't think my face so horrible that I am unworthy of love." That was Erik.

"It's because, Erik, you know what happened with Veronica." That, I assumed, was Daroga. I heard Erik sigh. Veronica? Who was _she?_ Did Erik have another woman? If he did, I'd rip him to shreds. No, he couldn't. It seemed as if the other man was referring to the past. Erik loved me. He had said so himself. I shook my head, and prepared to act as if I hadn't heard anything of that conversation. I'd bring _that_ up after the ball. I opened the door, and two sets of eyes met me right there.

"Erik," I stammered. "I wasn't aware that you had company. I didn't even know you received company down here," I admitted, smiling slightly crookedly. I walked up to him and gave him a small hug. "Aren't you going to introduce me?" I asked sweetly.

"Um, of course, Christine," Erik said. "Christine, this is my friend from a ways back, the Daroga. Daroga, this is Christine." I smiled gracefully.

"A pleasure to meet you, monsieur," I said politely, holding out my hand. He smiled at me, though it never reached his eyes, I noticed.

"Likewise, mademoiselle," he said, brushing his lips against my knuckles for a brief moment. "And you may call me Nadir," he admonished. I smiled, and I made sure it was as cold as ice. If he wasn't going to genuine with me, I didn't need to be with him, now did I? I thought not.

"Erik has told me a little about you," I said. Nadir's eyes flashed.

"Has he, now?" I nodded slyly.

"Yes, he mentioned that you used to live in Persia. I understand that you two were colleagues." Might as well play with the man; make him think I know more than I did. Mind games; I loved them. Erik shifted uncomfortably, and I saw Nadir cast him a nervous glance. Great, now what was Erik hiding from me? Wasn't his physical person enough? I supposed not. "Although, he wasn't exactly clear on what he did there," I mused quietly. "What did you do, darling?" I asked innocently, mostly just to make Nadir more uncomfortable.

"Christine, I think that is a discussion best left for another time," Erik said patiently. I just nodded.

"Well, I came down here to see what you were doing, since I haven't seen you in so long. What's it been, Erik? Three weeks?" I asked sweetly. I was playing him like a card. Guilt-tripping him.

"Yes, Christine, it has. But I have a good reason," he said, the guilt obvious in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sure you do, and I trust you, so I'm not worried. I just thought I'd pay a visit."

"Christine, now really isn't the best time…" he trailed off.

"Why ever not? Oh, because you have company, right." I said, a tinge of bitterness in my voice. So Erik could have friends over, but not me? Well, I guess I knew where I stood on his list of important people. "I suppose I'll leave you two, then," I said haughtily. I brushed past both of them and out the front door.

"Christine, wait, please." I stopped, mostly out of politeness, not out of interest of what he had to say. "Why are you so upset, dear?" he murmured, coming up to me. "The Daroga always invites himself in, otherwise I would have him over."

"Really?" I asked sarcastically, turning to face him. "I think I can relate with Nadir." Erik flinched, and I could tell I had seriously hurt him. Then his anger began to boil over.

"Fine! I was composing, woman! I wanted to finish my organ concerto! For you! Damn it, was that too much to ask?" My face paled. Erik was composing a concerto for me? How stupid could I be? I should have known he would be doing something utterly and completely romantic!

"No… Erik, I'm sorry." He seemed surprised at my sudden withdrawal from the fight. "You told me you wouldn't be able to see me for a while… I just missed you," I murmured. Erik pulled me into a hug and stroked my hair tenderly, and I could feel Nadir's eyes watching us with skepticism. I closed my eyes.

"Christine," he backed up just enough so he could look at me. "I will be there to take you to the ball masque, I promise."

I looked around the massive room for Erik. He said that he would be here at 9 o' clock on the dot, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. Yes, the room was filled with people that had masks on, but I knew I'd still be able to identify Erik. After all, I only ever did see him with a mask on. A half-mask. Perhaps it would be more difficult to recognize him with a full face mask. I wasn't entirely sure. Someone called for attention, and the managers called for a toast.

"This year has been a grand success here at the Opera house, and we would like to show our appreciation by giving a special offer!" Firmin began. I tuned him out. I knew it was a scam, and that they would spend more money than they would "save." It made me want to be sick. Then, to my left, there was a flurry of movement, and gasps came from several women. I turned to look, just as everyone else was, only to see Red Death. Erik. He was dressed in a blood red suit, with a frightening mask that looked like a death's head. He had on a top hat (really, Erik? I thought) that had a feather dyed red on it, and the icing on the cake was his saber. It glinted, for it didn't have a sheath on it, in the light proudly. I had no doubt that he had gotten in from his time in Persia.

"Good, evening, Monsieurs and Madames. Have I interrupted something? Oh, do please continue." He stole a glance at me and smirked evilly when no one dared to continue. "Ah, I see that my managers were just about to make a toast. Well, there certainly is something to toast about, now. The end of the season, _oui_? And, as the opening Opera for the new season, I give you my own score!" He was in front of me now, and I did my best to look utterly frightened. He handed it to me with a flourish. "And Mademoiselle Daae will be playing the lead." What? This would be interesting. "I will give you the rest of the cast in a few weeks time, gentlemen. But for now, I bid you all good evening."

I was about to open my mouth, and say something stupid, but Raoul beat me to it. I groaned inwardly. "And who are you, monsieur, to be deciding what Opera shall begin the new season." Poor, ignorant, Raoul. Did he not know the Opera Ghost when he saw him?

"I? I am no one of importance, monsieur le Vicomte. Just a ghost. Yes, a ghost. One that has grown rather fond of this Opera house and its inhabitants," he said, touching my chin lightly. My jaw trembled.

"Don't touch her," Raoul growled. "Or I'll mince you." I almost started laughing at Raoul. Erik, however, did laugh, and Raoul became indignant and drew his sword, which, he had told me earlier in the evening, was mostly for show. I had told him he looked dashing with it, and he had puffed up like a rooster.

"I seriously doubt that you would be able to mince me. Why do you act in such aggravation, young Vicomte? Ah, I see, you must fancy Miss Daae." I wanted to hit Erik at that moment. He needn't embarrass Raoul anymore than he already was—or was going to. Because, at this moment, Raoul looked like a hero, standing up for the damsel in distress. Namely me. "But monsieur, must we fight? I have merely come to give my Opera to the public, and you would deny me even that? I think that you will find it most invigorating, sir. I will leave, if that is what you wish, as soon as my business here is done." Upon saying that, he turned to the managers. "You _will_ perform my Opera at the beginning of the new season, gentlemen, or face dire consequences. I will leave you to your evening, now, I believe, unless someone wishes me to stay?" He glanced around the room then, and everyone avoided eye contact. "I thought not." With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, cape billowing behind him.

I approached the managers cautiously, and I leafed through the play. It truly was a work of art. How long had it taken Erik to write this? Years, most likely. He had probably started his concerto when he had finished this. He was just waiting for an opportune time to announce it.

"Christine, are you all right?" It was Raoul, he was approaching me from behind and turning me around to face him. He searched my face earnestly, as if Erik's mere touch would scar me for life.

"Yes, Raoul, I'm perfectly fine, if a little shaken up." I needed to keep up the pretense that I was afraid of Erik.

"Are you sure? You look a little flushed. I needs must speak with you, Christine, about the rumors…" he trailed off awkwardly. I flushed hotly.

"Raoul, they're just rumors. Let it lie." I tried to brush him off, but he pursued me.

"Christine, are you sure? I won't think any less of you if they are," he assured me. "I just wish to know."

"I will refrain from answering your questions, Raoul, since it is obvious to me that you only wish to know to satisfy your own curiosity and not out of concern for my well being," I snapped. That stopped him cold, and I kept going.

"That's not true, Christine!" he called, though he did not come after me. I approached the managers, suddenly meek, and they glared at me, as if it was my fault that the Opera Ghost had chosen to give the play to me.

"Monsieurs," I said, inclining my head slightly. "The play. I have looked it over and have found it to be of very high quality." I handed it to them, and they took it as if it were infected with some highly fatal disease.

"Yes," muttered Firmin. "It does appear to be very well written, doesn't it?" Richard nodded agreement. "But we cannot produce it," he said, looking up at me. "It's much too… vulgar for the type of audiences we wish to appeal to, I'm afraid." I was speechless.

"Did you not hear the man?" I finally managed, sputtering. "He'll do something awful! Horribly, horribly awful." They looked somewhat shaken, but Richard was firm in his resolve.

"Yes, yes, we heard, Ms. Daae. But we cannot become frightened of a feigned specter. We would come across as cowards, and that would not be good for business."

"Quite a good point, Richard," Firmin interjected.

"I believe, monsieur, that it would actually be quite good for business. If you would look at Act III, please. It seemed to me that that act is particularly soulful and moving with its pieces and arias." The managers flipped to act III, and read the first page.

"Very well, mademoiselle, we will give it one night, and if it does not fare well, we shall burn it. It is this agreeable to you?" I shrugged.

"I'm sure that the Ghost will let you know, because it really isn't my decision to make." I hoped dearly that Erik had made another copy of his Opera. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and find my suitor."

"Here, take this. I'll have nothing to do with it until the proper time," Firmin said, shoving it into me. I clasped the Opera to my chest and walked away. "Did you see how she defended that Opera? She really must be his whore," Firmin said when he thought I was out of earshot. Tears welled up in my eyes. Perhaps it would be best if I quit the Opera and tried to make a normal life for myself.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I swiped the tears from my eyes and turned around. It was Erik. He was smiling, but it quickly faded when he saw my distress. "What is wrong, _mon ange?"_ I gave him my best smile and shook my head.

"It's nothing," I assured him. He gave me an unbelieving look. "Really, Erik, it's fine… Now, there are some people I have to introduce you to. Raoul, and I still have to meet Marcus, so you should be there, too. And the managers, it wouldn't be polite not to introduce you to them. Plus, I really wouldn't mind it if you scared the living daylights out of them…"

"What did they do?" he demanded. I knew who he was going to be going to see first.

"Well, they didn't _do_ anything, per se," I said cautiously. He gave me an impatient look, and I gave in. "They called me a whore."

"How dare they!" He fumed. "To call a lady a whore, and especially to her face! Why, I never—"

"They didn't do it to my face, Erik," I said, cutting him off. "Look, can we please deal with it another night? I'd really like to enjoy this evening, and dance with you," I said smiling up at him. He frowned.

"I don't dance, Christine," he said. My face fell.

"Oh… Well, that's fine," I said, smiling. "Now, let's go and mingle," I said, and he groaned, which made me laugh.

I quickly spotted Meg, who looked amazing in a lavender dress with white accents. Her hair was all done up in a bun, and she held the hand of a tall man. That must be Marcus, I thought. He had chocolate hair and deep brown eyes. He was a few inches shorter than Erik, which seemed to make Erik happy, because Marcus was extremely well built. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and looked like a typical Prince Charming. I looked at Erik for a moment, taking in his new attire. He was, again, in red and black, but the majority of this costume was black, not red. Just the opposite of mine, which was a deep crimson, with black lace overlaid on it. My mask too was a deep crimson, which offset my eyes. He still had his saber, though, but it was sheathed this time. And he had gotten rid of his top hat, and his hair was slicked back loosely, and I thought he looked quite handsome.

"Meg!" I called, waving. She waved, but as soon as we met, she reprimanded me.

"Please, I'm Elizabeth Bennett," she said, smiling. "And this is Darcy," she said, pulling Marcus forward. I smiled.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Juliet, and this is my Romeo." I too, pulled my suitor forward, and the two men shook hands. "You look wonderful, Lizzie," I said teasingly, but I was sincere about the compliment. Meg and I both laughed, earning smiles from our dates. We separated into our respective conversations. "Is he a good dancer?" I asked eagerly, and Meg nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, yes! He even dipped me!" she squealed, and I laughed. "What about Romeo, here?" she asked, eyes alight.

"Oh, no. Well, I'm not sure. He just got here and told me he didn't dance." Meg's faced scrunched up.

"Well, I'll just have to talk to him about that." We both laughed at that comment. After a few minutes of polite conversation, we headed off in different directions, and I took Erik to meet Raoul.

"Be polite," I reminded him, and Erik sighed playfully.

"Do I have to?" he whined. I dug my elbow into his ribs.

"Yes, I want you to make a good impression. After all, I did turn him down to be with you."

"Oh, fine," he muttered as we approached Raoul. I dropped the pretense of Romeo and Juliet because that would have irked Raoul beyond belief.

"Raoul," I said, tapping him on the shoulder, and he turned around, a smile on his face. "This is Erik. Erik, this is Raoul." I said. Though, technically, no introductions were really needed.

"A pleasure, Monsieur le Vicomte," Erik purred, and I knew that formally meeting Raoul was anything but for him.

"Ah, so you are the lucky man who has won Christine's heart. You do realize you are lucky, no?" Raoul said good naturedly, and Erik nodded.

"Yes, I believe myself to be the happiest man on earth, monsieur," Erik said, inclining his head slightly.

"Please, call me Raoul. I detest formalities. And besides, there are very few people here who know that I am who I am," he said. "And that is the way I like it." Erik raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Very well, I will do as you ask. Are you enjoying your patronage of this fine establishment?" Erik asked innocently enough, and I shifted his Opera under my arm.

"Yes, actually. For the most part. Save for that blasted Opera Ghost. He had the impertinence to come here and crash the party. And he assaulted Christine, too." Assaulted? Hardly.

"He did _what?"_ Erik asked. "I should have been here, Christine. I'm sorry, love," he said, kissing my hand hastily to hide his smile. I smiled and blushed modestly.

"Raoul, honestly. He didn't assault me. Just touched my chin. And he was kind enough to give me the lead in his Opera. So, I daresay it was worth it." I showed Raoul the manuscript. Raoul looked it over, pretending to know what he was looking at, but Erik and I both knew he couldn't read music.

"It seems very complex," he said knowingly. I bit the inside of my lip with amusement.

"May I see it, please?" Erik asked politely, and I glanced at him in astonishment. Did Erik really just say please? What was the world coming to? I watched Erik "study" the script, carefully going over the first few pages. "Yes, it is fairly complex, but it is certainly something I would pay to see." I snorted softly in a failed attempt to conceal my laughter. Erik cast me a baleful glance, which only made me snort louder.

"Christine, would you care to dance?" It was Raoul, because Erik was studying the opera again.

"Oh Raoul, you know I'd love to, but I came with Erik, and it wouldn't be right for me to—"

"Nonsense. Just because I don't enjoy dancing doesn't mean you can't, Christine. You may dance with him if you like." I looked at him with bewilderment.

"Are you sure Erik?" And he gave me the "Oh, for Pete's sake just go" look. Apparently he wanted to alone time with his Opera. "All right, Raoul, let's go."

Raoul led me onto the dance floor, and we danced until it was ten-thirty. I was surprised that my feet weren't hurting. The music was splendid, and romantic, but Raoul kept an acceptable distance from me. We laughed, talked and enjoyed each other's company while we were on the dance floor, and I had a genuinely good time. Raoul had left just a moment ago to get me something to drink.

I looked around the room. I noticed that the managers had disappeared, along with two smutty chorus girls, who were, apparently, going to sleep their way to the top. Someone touched my back lightly, and I turned, expecting to see Raoul, but it was Erik instead.

"You look ravishingly divine, Christine." I blushed, but smiled. "May I have this dance?" I laughed out of sheer joy.

"Yes, of course you may." He took my hand and led me out to the center of the dance floor. A new song was just about to start, and as soon as the music played, he started to skillfully, without a touch of clumsiness, take me around the dance floor. I rested my head on his chest and sighed contently. "I thought you didn't dance," I said. He chuckled quietly.

"I said I didn't, I never said that I couldn't." I smiled and listened as the words formed of the song, which I was surprised at, because most dance numbers at such formal events never had words, and so I was intrigued.

_You're in my arms  
>And all the world is calm<br>The music playing on for only two  
>So close together<br>And when I'm with you  
>So close to feeling alive<em>

_A life goes by__  
>Romantic dreams must die<br>So I bid mine goodbye and never knew  
>So close was waiting, waiting here with you<br>And now forever I know  
>All that I want is to hold you<br>So close  
><em>_[ Lyrics from: .com/lyrics/j/jon_mclaughlin/so_ ]__  
>So close to reaching that famous happy ending<br>Almost believing this one's not pretend  
>And now you're beside me and look how far we've come<br>So far, we are so close_

And here, Erik dipped me, and I felt as if I would surely die of happiness. He was a skillful dancer, and I felt that I could be in his arms forever.__

_How could I face the faceless days  
>If I should lose you now?<em>_  
>We're so close<br>To reaching that famous happy ending  
>Almost believing this one's not pretend<br>Let's go on dreaming for we know we are  
>So close<em>_  
>So close<br>And still so far_

For me, the song was over all too quickly. As the last node of the violin faded, Erik kissed my forehead tenderly and I gazed up at him. I was briefly aware of some people staring at us, and one of them was Raoul, but I took no notice, because in this instant, the world only included Erik and I.

"No matter what happens, Christine, I will always love you."

**Yes, I know that that was a "modern" song, but I thought it fit well with the situation. And this chapter is extra long, to make up for my absence over the weekend. Jesus Culture was amazing, by the way, in case any of you are wondering. Please review, they are all appreciated. And what surprises me, is that this story gets around 30 visits a day, and yet I only have about 3 reviewers? Hmmm… Something is not quite right here…**


	19. Not Enough? No

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Is there anything I can do to encourage anyone else to review? Not that I'm discontent with my reviewers, but it never hurts to aspire for more, hm? And I am soooo sorry about the grammatical mistakes in my last chapter! I really need to do a better job of proof-reading…Anyway, here's this chapter.**

"Erik, could you please button up this last bit of my dress? I can't seem to reach." It was just after midnight and Erik and I had slipped away from the ball to avoid the unmasking.

"Of course," Erik said, reaching for the buttons, and I felt him pause. "Christine, how did you get these bruises?" he asked, turning me around to face him.

"Oh, those? It's nothing," I said evasively. I didn't really think that Erik needed to know about my fight with Carlotta.

"Christine," Erik said, gripping my arms firmly, and it hurt. "_What happened?"_

"Erik, stop, you're hurting me," I said, trying to pull away, but I couldn't, his grip was too strong.

"Christine! Tell me what happened! How could you possibly manage to gets bruises all over your back?" Carlotta had bruised me worse than I thought she would. My whole back was black and blue? Good Lord, I hated that woman.

"Erik! Let me go! You're hurting me!" I shoved myself away from him and fell backward, hitting the divan awkwardly. My hip was throbbing, and I thought that I had perhaps hit my head on something as I fell, but I wasn't sure. I propped myself up slowly onto my elbows, and I looked at Erik in a daze. There was silence, then a knock at the door.

"Christine, is everything all right?" it was Raoul.

"Everything's perfectly fine, Raoul," I said, gritting my teeth as Erik helped me up onto the divan.

"Are you sure? I heard shouting and it sounded like you were hurt," he insisted.

"It's fine, Raoul, please, go enjoy the rest of your evening. Don't worry about me." I heard him mutter something about shutting him out, but he bid me goodnight, and I heard him leave the hall. I sighed in frustration, avoiding eye contact with Erik.

"Christine…?" I looked at Erik, and he continued. "I didn't mean to hurt you… I just get so angry when someone does hurt you and it… I die a little inside when you keep things from me. You're the one who said that love has no secrets." I sighed. He was right, though, I had said that.

"It was Carlotta," I said finally. "She and I got into a fight. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it by now." I looked at my knees in shame. It wasn't proper for a lady to get into a fight, and even though Carlotta may have instigated it, it didn't mean that I should have played along.

"I had heard that she fell and broke one of her fingers," he said, and I smiled ruefully. "However, I wouldn't have guessed that it was you."

"She broke her finger? Oh, dear." Erik snorted at that.

"Please, Christine. I've done worse things."

"Like what?" I asked innocently. "I mean, I know you're no saint, and neither am I, but I'm curious. I've obviously told you everything there is to know about me, and yet your past seems to evade me like a Shadow."

"Was my story not enough?"

"No."

He sighed and turned to me slowly, carefully buttoning up the rest of my dress. "Very well, then. I will tell you of my time in Persia."

**Another "Erik's Past" chapter coming up, and that may take me a little bit. And no, I won't be doing any research on Persia. So, forgive me if there are any cultural mistakes…**


	20. Scars of the Past

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It's very much appreciated! So, here's the story about Erik's time in Persia, and it won't be told in italics this time, because Christine will interrupt at times. So, without further ado, Persia.**

"My time in Persia was not the best of my life, Christine. It had its high and low points, just as any period does, but this was a very dark period for me." Erik sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck. "After the Daroga found me, I was severely dehydrated, starving, and much thinner than I normally was, which says something. It took me a number of weeks to be feeling better again, and then I was shaky on my feet and lightheaded constantly. So, Daroga built up my strength, and when that came back, my dizziness went as well. As grateful as I am for his help, the Daroga is a coarse man. As soon as he taught me all I needed to know to make it in Persia, I was out of his house. Which, I suppose, was better for both of us. One inevitably would have harmed the other had I stayed there for much longer.

"The Daroga had landed me a job working for the Shah, a lowly position, but I soon proved my worth to him and became his chief architect. I built him magnificent structures, which most could only have in their dreams. I was revered as a god among some of the lower slaves, and I reveled in my power. And with such power comes a price. The Shah's wife had taken a fancy to me, and that was difficult to avoid. You've heard the biblical story of Joseph and the Egyptian officer's wife? Yes, it's something like that. Much with the same result, actually," Erik chuckled and pulled me closer, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I refused her, and she had me punished severely." Here, Erik scratched at his chest, as if in memory of an old would, long forgotten. "I couldn't avoid her, though, and I was brought before her many times after that incident. The Shah, needless to say, was not pleased with her actions. So he had me brought before the best healers, so that I could make a speedy recovery and continue to serve him in ways that he thought best.

"Some of these ways were rather morbid entertainment for his daughter and youngest son. They would cheer me on as I would strangle some murderer, and on occasion, a hapless bystander. These killings numbed me like nothing in this life ever has. It brought the boy much joy though, and he grew to idolize me. Personally, I despised the little sniveling brat. We were the same age, I had just turned 16 that year, and he a few weeks after. Of course, he didn't know my age, and I looked about 20 when I was sixteen, so he thought it fitting, I suppose, to idolize someone like me.

"Needless to say, he followed me everywhere like a loyal dog. I toyed with him a few times, making him believe I would tell him a secret, then leave him dangling. Eventually, he grew bored of me, and, after watching me so many times, murdered his elder brother and his father. He used a Punjab lasso, something that had become my trademark as a killer. He framed me, and I had to flee the country, and I came back to France. I met you a year later, and the rest is history."

"Don't lie to me, Erik Girraurd," I snapped. He hadn't once mentioned his beloved Veronica. Why not? Was he still seeing her? I was boiling inside.

"What? Christine, I wouldn't lie to you, not ever."

"You're keeping something form me, Erik." He gave me a blank expression. "Oh don't play coy. I know about _her._"

Erik's face went pale, and he looked at me strangely. "You… you know about Veronica?" he said quietly.

"I know you loved her," I said, looking at him. "What happened to her, anyway? I heard Nadir mention her, and—"

"You were eavesdropping?" he asked sharply. I met his gaze evenly.

"Yes. I was, but I wouldn't have to if you didn't have all these blasted secrets!" I flushed red. I placed a hand on his chest to shove him, and felt a rather large protrusion. I unbuttoned his shirt quickly and found an ugly, raised, white scar on his chest. "Oh, Erik," I whispered.

**Okay, kind of a weird way to end the chapter, but next chapter we do some deep soul digging, I promise. Well, hopefully. I hope it's deep. Haha. Your reviews are appreciated and looked forward to.**


	21. Veronica

**For all of you who were anxious to learn about Veronica, this is the chapter you've been waiting for. Again, my reviewers, thank you so terribly much, they make my day. :) I'm think of perhaps writing another story… Ideas are appreciated, if you have them. And now, what you've all be waiting for, the newest chapter! :D Oh, and this chapter gets a little… dark, perhaps?**

Erik looked down bashfully as I stroked the massive scar in his chest. It extended from just below his left collar bone, across his navel, and ended at the tip of his right hip. I traced it lightly, and he flinched slightly at my touch. "Erik, why do you never tell me about these things? Are you so afraid that I'll leave? That I'm afraid of what your past might be? I'm not, you know. I'm content with the present and the hope of a future…" I murmured, resting my head on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his waist.

Erik sighed. "Then why the incessant questions about my past if all you care about is the present and future?" he mumbled. I withdrew from him and turned to face him.

"Because, Erik, maybe I wouldn't ask so many questions if you'd surrender some information every now and then without prodding." I tried to keep my voice even. Erik and I had been fighting so much lately, and I was sick of it. It was time it all ended. Erik was silent for a long while.

"Veronica was a mission a missionary from England, and was there with her family: Father, mother, and younger sister. They had arrived just after I had gotten my first job with the Shah. Veronica and I were fascinated with each other. She with my mask, and I with her faith. We spent many long hours together, watching the sun set. I grew to love those evenings, and her as well. She was sweet, witty, and she saw beyond my mask. One evening, when we were doing such a thing, she kissed me. I was completely bewildered. 'Erik,' she said, looking me full on. 'Show me what's behind the mask.' I was almost sixteen, and I would've done anything for her, so, with great reluctance, I peeled the mask off. She started at the sight of it, my face, but she didn't scream, or run, or faint. She just sat there, mouth gaping open. I quickly put my mask back on with shame, and she turned to face the setting sun without another word. That hurt me more than any scream of terror ever could.

"It was only the next morning when the Shah's wife made advances towards me, and I blatantly refused her, saying I loved another. Well, she slashed me from top to bottom, as you've already seen, and she hunted down the one who held my affection, Veronica, and had her killed. I came home that night, and her blood was smeared over my door. With a fair amount of trepidation, I opened it, and there her head lay on my bed." Erik was shaking now, and I rubbed his back comfortingly. "I grew angry. I found Veronica's family, told them with bleary eyes that their daughter was dead, and sought out the Shah's wife, and I killed her. No one ever thought it could be me since she wasn't hanged, but beheaded, and so I stayed at the palace for another few months, until I was framed for the Shah's death, upon which I flew back to France." Erik let a single tear drop down his face, and I whisked it away with the pad of my thumb.

"Erik, I'm sorry," I murmured. So much had happened to him at such a young age, and I felt awful now that I had drudged it all up again. But I needed to know.

"I don't need your pity," he said angrily. "You wanted to know, and now you do. You know the full, awful truth. I'm a murderer, Christine. You're in love with a murderer." With that, he stood up suddenly and exited though the mirror. I was left sitting there, dumbstruck.

**Yes, it's a short one, I know. But now you know about Veronica. And I hope you're happy, because that was really dark for me to write. Usually I'm all kittens and sunshine, but not for the next few chapters! Muahahahahahaha!**


	22. Change

**Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them! They brighten my school day! And my weekend day. Or night. Or wee hours of the morning. :D **

I hurriedly made my way to the stage; the first practice of the season was about to start, and I was to play in my first lead role, per Erik's instructions. Carlotta had quit over the period of time between seasons, and though the managers had beseeched her to stay, she would have none of it. She said that she was moving to Italy, where her talent would be respected and appreciated. Now that Carlotta was gone, I was the automatic choice for Prima Donna. Piangi had left with Carlotta, and a new tenor had been found, and this one could actually sing, and we were a fantastic musical pair. His name was Anton Petit. He was tall, lean and muscular, with dark hair and hazel eyes. He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. His nose was long and thin, and he had a strong jaw that gave him an air of authority and masculinity. He never said much, but was polite to everyone, and he performed flawlessly. His whole life was devoted to the Opera. Apparently, he never went out, wasn't seeing anyone, wasn't married, and didn't have any friends or family.

He was standing across the stage from me, and my heart pounded loudly in my ears. This particular piece had always moved me so deeply, and with such a handsome man singing it across from me, I had reacted in pure rapture. I sang as flawlessly as I could. Ever since Erik had told me about Veronica, I hadn't seen him. He'd leave me notes, correcting my posture, or breath, but not once did he venture from the role of teacher. I wondered what had gotten into him. Occasionally, I'd leave him notes, too, simply saying "I love you," on them, but nothing drew Erik nearer to me. I grew lonely, and started going out to dinner with Raoul to ease my pain and drive out the darkness that had been creeping into my soul.

I hit the high note as well as I could, but it was at the top of my range, and my voice cracked, and everyone was silent at that. My voice had never cracked. Not once. Erik's tutelage had always ensured that my voice flowed from one register to the next easily.

"That will be all for today, I think," said the maestro, who was the first to recover. I shuffled off stage with embarrassment. I took a sip of water that someone offered me, and I was about to make my way to my dressing room, when Anton approached me.

"Mademoiselle, is something troubling you? I am told that your voice does not usually behave in that manner," he said quietly.

"Oh, it's nothing that you should concern yourself with, Anton. And please, call me Christine," I said, smiling lightly at him.

"I think it is, Christine," he said. Somehow, the way he said that sent shivers down my spine. No. I was in love with Erik. End of story. "How you perform affects us all."

"I suppose you're right, Anton," I said, sighing quietly. "My teacher has been attempting some… new methods of teaching, and it's beginning to show in my voice, but of course, you and everyone in the auditorium know that… If my voice doesn't adjust to these new methods soon, I may be out of a job," I smiled ruefully.

"Perhaps you should consider finding a new teacher," Anton said rationally.

"No! No, I could never do that to him." I rubbed my arm and avoided looking at Anton.

"You love him," he said quietly, leaning against the wall. "Or at least care for him. But you mustn't let your emotions interfere with your professional viewpoint."

"Oh, I don't know. One can't always view things with a totally level head, Anton."

"Well, then, perhaps I could give you a few pointers that your instructor may have missed, just to help," he said. "Or would he mind that terribly?" he asked sarcastically. I eyed him carefully.

"Very well," I said. "Shall we head to my dressing room?" I asked. "For a small amount of privacy and to be free from prying eyes?"

"If that is what you wish."

So I led him to my dressing room, and he gave me a few pointers, just as he promised. One or two I already knew and was making use of, while the others were completely new to me, and even extended my range another few notes, which made hitting that high note even easier.

"Thank you very much, Anton," I said afterward. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, please tell me," I said quietly.

"Let me take you out to dinner sometime," he said.

"Anton, I couldn't, not after all that you've done. You've been an incredible help."

"Please, I would consider it a favor to me, and then we could be kosher, so to speak," he said, smiling at me.

"All right," I said. "If you insist." I smiled at him.

"I do. Shall I pick you up Friday at seven?" he asked, looking at me questioningly, and I nodded. "Wonderful. I'll see you then." He kissed my hand reverently and walked across the room with such dignity that I wanted to swoon. He shut the door behind him and I sat down on my divan with a dreamy sigh.

"Christine," someone was knocking on my door.

"Come in," I said looking up to see who the visitor was. It was Raoul, and I smiled. "Raoul, what a pleasant surprise." He chuckled and winked at me playfully.

"How are you and Erik doing, Christine? You haven't mentioned him when we go out," he pointed out mildly.

"Erik and I are going through a rough patch, Raoul," I said.

"Ah. I apologize. I didn't mean to pry so brusquely." I smiled at him forgivingly, and he continued. "I see you have befriended the new tenor, Anton." He smiled. "I like him, he's very amiable."

"Yes," I smiled. "He was just giving me a few tips to help me sing better. We're going out to dinner Friday," I added, and Raoul shot me a curious glance. "As friends." He nodded.

A blood-curdling scream rippled through the Opera house, and before long, another joined it. Raoul and I both started and rushed for the door, but Meg had already swung it open.

"Christine!" she breathed, eyes wide, terror clearly showing in them. "Joseph Buquet is dead! Hanged!"

"What? How?"

"I'm not sure," she said breathlessly.

"It was the Phantom of the Opera!" shrieked Marietta, who was a ballerina. "Someone said he was chasing Buquet along the catwalk after rehearsal today and that's how he hanged!"

"Preposterous!" Raoul said. "There isn't an Opera Ghost, or Phantom, or whatever you people call him."

"Oh but there is! He teaches Christine!" I shrunk back at that comment. That was a rumor, and a true one at that.

"So that man I met at the cemetery that night-that was the Phantom?" Raoul stared at me.

"No," I mumbled half-heartedly. "The Phantom doesn't teach me… Angel teaches me," I said quietly. "The Angel of Music." Raoul raised an eyebrow at that. I averted my eyes. The Angel of Music was a story that Father had told Raoul and I countless times. There was an awkward pause in the room. "Please, can I just be alone for a while? I need some time to think for myself—sort things out," I mumbled and ushered everyone out the door.

Had Erik really killed Buquet? I didn't want to believe it, but there was a worm of doubt wriggling its way farther into my mind. Erik had killed before, that much was evident, and his trademark was a Punjab lasso; to strangle and hang his victim. I groaned and placed my face in my hands.

A while later, Raoul came back to check on me. "Christine? Are you all right?" he took one of my hands in his own and stroked it gently with his thumb. I shook my head. He stood me up and got me off the floor, and led me out of my room and up to the roof of the Opera.

"Oh, Raoul, I can't keep silent any longer, I just can't," I moaned. "Phantom, the Angel of Music, Erik, they're all one in the same, and I love him so!" I sat at the base of a large statue; Aphrodite. I told him everything I knew, and from what I told him, both good and bad, Raoul came to his own conclusions.

"Christine," he said gently, kneeling in front of me, and I looked at him through tear-filled eyes, sniffling. "You're not safe with him, not anymore." I gasped, and he continued. "Perhaps you were safe before he killed Buquet, but now that he's done what he's done, he could turn on you, and I won't risk any harm coming to you. I couldn't stand it if something happened to you. Promise me you'll not see him any longer. You can come stay with me, if you like, or perhaps get your own flat close to the Opera." I shook my head. Erik wouldn't harm me, would he? I remembered briefly the things he had knocked over after I had un-masked him by mistake that night. What if inanimate objects weren't enough at some point? What if he did eventually turn on me? Raoul was right; I couldn't live at the Opera Garnier any longer.

**Dun dun dun! I hope you all don't hate Christine or I. And I know there's a lot going on in this chapter, what with the new tenor, Anton *sigh* and Buquet's death, and the whole "All I ask of you" thing (sort of). And I did that because I thought things were moving too slowly. So more excitement for you! Yayz! But, a new update soon. There will be unexpected twists in the plot, and if you guess it correctly, you won't know until it has been revealed, upon which you can say: "I knew it! I totally knew it!" and then everyone around you will be like "Umm… OK?" Anyway, please hit the nice review button. It makes me feel fuzzy inside. Like seriously, hit it. Please. Why are you still reading this? Hit the button. I mean, seriously, why haven't you hit the button yet? If you've stopped reading this (in which case you wouldn't' know I wrote this if you had stopped reading, now would you? So stop reading and hit the review button already!) then kudos to you! Now, for those of you who have put up with this entire dither, just hit the button and you won't have to read anymore of it. You know you wanna hit the button, because it's calling to you. And the sooner you hit the button, the sooner a new chapter will be up! So, Hit. The. Button. The review button, just in case you've forgotten **_**which**_** button. Ok, I'm through now. But just hit the button. Please. I always forget to say please, so here is my last plea, if you please: Please hit the review button at the bottom of the screen, thank you.**


	23. Home

"Miss Christine, why are you moving out of the Opera house, if I may ask?" It was Anton, approaching me from the East wing of the Opera Garnier. I picked up a suitcase and turned to face him.

"I need a change, Anton. A change of scenery will do me some good, I think." I smiled at him warmly and headed for the door.

"You must give me your address, then," he said, taking the suitcase from me and loading it onto the carriage. I looked at him strangely, and he explained. "I still have to take you out on Friday." He smiled at me then, and I blushed like a school girl.

"I look forward to it," I managed. I pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled down my address. "Here," I said, handing it to him gingerly. "I'll see you Friday, Anton." I climbed into the carriage, and it rolled off to a small flat a few blocks from the Opera House. I sighed, wishing I could have said goodbye to Erik before I had left, but then again, if he had been there, I would have stayed. I wondered briefly how he would react to my going out with Anton. I imagined him seething with jealousy, and it filled me with a sick joy. I dragged all of my bags just inside the door, then went to look around again.

The flat was small, yes, but it had a quaint, cozy feel to it. Apparently, Raoul was friends with the man who owned it, and so I was able to get the rent for cheaper than I might have otherwise. It had two bedrooms, and one small bath, as well as a sitting room, and a small dining room that adjoined the kitchen. The walls were whitewashed, and I wasn't allowed to paint, so I figured that I would spruce the house up any way I could.

Living on my own would be good for me. I'd be able to get out more, and wouldn't be quite as frowned upon by society, not that I really cared. Society may have frowned upon Opera singers, but they loved the Opera. Hypocrites. With my time apart from Erik, I'd realized that I'd been letting others make decisions for me, and I was so disgusted with myself. If I hadn't been making my own decisions, which of my feelings were real? Did I not love Raoul simply because Erik told me not to? Did I love him because he wanted me to? I wasn't sure.

I'd be my own woman in this flat, I'd decided. No one could make my decisions for me, not Erik, not Raoul, not the Opera House and its inhabitants, and not Anton, should he decide he wanted to. I recognized the fact that because I was making my own decisions, I couldn't blame anyone for my mistakes.

Days passed, and I got settle into my flat in due time. I was beginning to personalize things, the drapes, which were a deep red, to the artwork that hung on my walls, some of which Marianna had given to me. I was very pleased with how things were turning out. I felt… normal for once in my life. I hadn't been normal when I lived in Sweden, and I'd never been normal here in France, what with my living at the Opera and not having any parents, not to mention my Angel.

My Angel. I wish I could have told him that I was leaving, but I didn't dare go down to his lair after our last visit. Plus, I had decided, stubbornly, to let him approach me. I briefly wondered if he had thrown out the concerto he had dedicated to me. I brushed it off, hoping that he hadn't been that mad.

I stood up with a sigh and went to go and get changed, because it was Friday, and Anton would be here in an hour. I put on the deep green dress that Erik had gotten me to replace the one that had been ruined after I fell in the lake. This one was even more expensive than the last one, and I loved it to death. I only took it out when I wanted to impress someone, or it was a special occasion. I was tempted to put on my masquerade dress, but I decided against it. Red was a color frowned upon, and I didn't want to make Anton uncomfortable. After I had dressed, I went to my vanity and sat down; I carefully applied all my makeup. I was dabbing excess lipstick onto a piece of facial tissue, when I thought I heard something downstairs. I stilled instantly and listened for a few minutes. Nothing stirred, and so I continued getting ready.

"_Christine." _I froze.

"Erik?" I asked, swallowing hard.

"_Why did you leave?"_

"Because you left," I snapped angrily. "I wasn't giving you pity. Not that you really care. You're so single minded you can't see things from anyone's perspective but your own. Now I'd appreciate it if you left, thank you. I have somewhere to go."

"_Christine, I love you."_

"Do you Erik, really? Think about that for a while," I said, turning back to my vanity. There was silence for a long time.

"_Christine, I love you. Do you still love me?"_

I decided I wouldn't answer him, and leave him hanging there, like he did me that night. I wasn't going to let him off that easily.

Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned.

Someone knocked. "Oh, good, Anton's here," I murmured to myself.

"_Anton? You're going somewhere with him?" _I ignored Erik's question for a moment, then gave him an annoyed yes.

"Now, if you would please get out of my house, I would appreciate it. And if you want to see me, you come see me in person, in daylight, at my house. I won't speak with you anywhere or any other time."

I opened up the door with a smile. "Anton, you're right on time," I said with a small chuckle.

"I always try to be punctual," he said, dipping his head slightly. "I'm not inclined to make a woman wait."

"Well, aren't you sweet," I said. "Shall we go?" He smiled, nodded, and offered me his arm, and we walked out, and I shut the door behind me.

"You look lovely this evening," he said, walking me down the street. I smield at him.

"Thank you." I noticed that he almost seemed nervous out on the busy streets, but I brushed it off as nothing.

Soon we reached a corner café and we sat down at an outside table. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked, and I shook my head. I preferred being outside to inside when it came to dining. I noted that this particular table would award us a nice view of the upcoming sunset, and I smiled at the thought. When the sun started setting, a waiter would come over and place a gas lamp on our table, so that we could still enjoy our dining experience. Dinner was served shortly, and Anton and I fell into a light, but stimulating, conversation about our hometowns. I learned that he was from France, and we shared childhood stories and experiences. I had an excellent time.

"May I see you again?" he asked me while walking me home.

"I'd like that."


	24. TwoFaced

**Thank for reviewing everyone! It is greatly appreciated, especially with the nasty weather I'm getting up here… Hail, lightning, thunder. It's bad. There will be some Latin in the play, and I'll have the translations at the end of the chapter.**

"_Aminta__,__propius__,__propius__.__Tu__cursu__sanguinis__, et__sine te__non valeo_." I was on stage, rehearsing for Erik's Opera, and Anton was singing to Aminta. I took a step closer as he beckoned, and one more still until I was in his arms, just as the play demanded. He pulled me close and lightly ran his fingers over my collar bone. I could feel myself getting gooseflesh.

"_Domine__, non__derelinquat__me__iuxta__te__est opus__mihi.__Quo__me__volueris__, et__libenter__sequi__.__Sed__nonrelinquere__.__Non__,__nunquam__."_ I sang, turning to face him. We were performing the most pivotal point in the play, where Aminta has to make her choice, her Master or family. "Don Juan" touched my jaw lightly, forcing me to look up at him. I did so reluctantly, and he leaned in to kiss me, just as the script suggested, but before he could, the maestro deemed it time for a break, saying:

"This will be the pairs first kiss, let's leave that until opening night, shall we?" Anton and I backed away from each other self consciously. I was blushing, and Antons ears were a reddish color. Why, oh, why did Erik have to write such a sultry piece of music?

"Christine!" Raoul called, waving me over. I eagerly walked over to him.

"Yes, Raoul?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Would you care to go to lunch with me?"

"Sorry, Raoul, Anton and I are going out to eat."

"Again? Christine, that's the third time this week…! But I'm happy you're no longer seeing Erik," he muttered.

I glanced around the room anxiously, and I noticed that Anton was waiting for me. "Look, Raoul, I really have to go," I said, waving goodbye and walking over to Anton. He gave me a curious expression.

"I did not know you knew the Vicomte," he said conversationally.

"Yes, we were childhood friends, recently reunited." I smiled at the thought.

"I assume you know, then, that he is engaged?" Anton said happily.

"What?" I stopped. "To whom? When? For how long?" Anton laughed.

"I'm sorry I said something." He smiled at me. "His fiancé is a very amiable young lady, Sandrine Perrault. I would estimate that they've been engaged for about two days now."

"Wow… I have to admit, I didn't see that one coming," I murmured. I was a little hurt for two reasons: One, that he hadn't told me yet, and two, that he had moved on. Of course I was happy for him, but it had only been a few months since he had said that he loved me. But what did I know? Not much, I supposed. The world was so wide that my knowledge was woefully inadequate.

"So, where are we going today?" I queried, linking my arm with his. He chuckled.

"I was thinking about that little café a few blocks down? You know the one with the different bouquet of roses on each table?" I nodded. That was a very popular café with young couples, I knew. I had never had the nerve to go there alone. And Erik certainly wouldn't want to go with me. I regretted my harsh words to him, but the past could not be undone, and I hadn't even heard whispers in the Opera house about the Phantom.

"Have you heard of the Opera House's resident Phantom?" I asked suddenly. With Anton being so new, I wasn't sure if he had.

"Yes, I have heard of him. I have also heard that you were involved with him. Not that I believe any of that rubbish," he said, glancing down at me. "You're far too upright a woman. And I don't believe in ghosts."

"Well, Anton, he is real. And yes, I did know him. He was my dearest friend…"

"Was? You speak is if this is past tense. You are not friends any longer?" I shrugged.

"I'm not sure. He was so moody, but he loved me."

"Your teacher," Anton said, nodding. "No wonder you didn't want to find a new one." I blushed with embarrassment.

"Yes," I said. "But I haven't seen him in a couple of months. So I have no idea what we are anymore." I could feel myself tearing up, and I took a deep breath to control myself.

"I'm sorry," Anton said sincerely. He seemed perplexed by something, then stopped and turned to face me. I took a quick check of my surroundings. We were in a dark part of the city, since the sun didn't usually reach there until about 12:30 in the afternoon. The neighborhood was still nice, though, and I smiled slightly. Anton's slight movement brought my thoughts back to the present. "Can I kiss you?" he asked timidly. I was so surprised that I wanted to laugh. No one had ever asked me if they could kiss me, and so I just nodded. It was a quick, fleeting kiss, the type that gives you the promise and hope of more.

Lunch was pleasant, well, at least it was up until the point where Anton and I got into an argument.

"Listen, Anton, I can't let this go any further until I can define my relationship with Erik!" I snapped, standing up from the table and leaving the small table inside the café. Anton hurriedly slapped down a few francs to cover the meal, and followed me out.

"And why not? You haven't seen the man in months!" he protested rationally. But love is not rational.

"Because I love him, Anton. You yourself said so!" I kept walking at a brisk pace. This day was taking a turn for the worst. I had so been looking forward to lunch with a friend, and then that friend quickly became a love interest, and I had realized my mistake, and told him I couldn't let it progress past friendship for the time being. He had bristled at that, and so the argument.

"That was before!"

"Before what?" I didn't turn to look at him, just kept my eyes focused on the Opera house that was only a few blocks away. If I could get there without him catching up to me—

Anton grabbed my right wrist in an attempt to stop me, but in my fury, I slapped him. My left hand came up without my thinking, and it struck the right side of his face firmly.

Then his face came off.

At least, that's what it looked like from my perspective. A ring that I wore on my index finger must have caught on his skin and peeled it off. But no. Skin didn't just peel off like that, I told myself. It couldn't just—

Erik.

He was covering his face, and tears were in his eyes, and I quickly took off my scarf and handed it to him. It would look strange, yes, but I knew a back route to the Opera house where no one would notice. While Erik knew the inside of the Opera House like the back of his hand, I knew the streets like the back of mine.

I was trying so hard not to cry after I slapped him.

**Twist! I tried really hard to get this one out, and I hope you all are happy with it!**

**Latin translations:**

**Aminta, come closer, still closer.**

**Master, do not leave me, I have need of you here beside me. Take me where you will, and I will follow willingly. But do not leave. No, never leave.**


	25. Alleyway

**All of your questions about Erik's guise will be answered (I think) in this chapter! As well as Buquet's death….**

"Erik, follow me," I said, taking his hand and leading him down a side street. He followed me like a scared child. I led him for a couple blocks, and stopped and turned down an alley, making sure no one was there before we headed down it. I turned to look and him, and smiled tenderly and the sight of his half covered face. "Oh, Erik," I murmured, sitting down on a wooden crate. "I have so many questions… and it… I'm so confused." Erik sat next to me with a heavy sigh, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"You have but to ask, and you shall receive," he murmured quietly, putting an arm around my shoulders.

"Did you kill Joseph Buquet?" I asked quietly, afraid of the answer. I could feel him looking at me intently.

"No," he said, shifting slightly. "I did not. No one did. Except himself. After my brief voice lesson with you, I went above to the catwalks to clear my head. I found him, noose in hand, already around his neck. 'No, Joseph!' I beseeched him, but he turned to me with a long gone look in his eyes. 'She left,' was all he said before he stepped off." Erik pulled me closer to him, and I breathed in his familiar scent. "I believe he was talking about Carlotta," he said thoughtfully. "And when she left, she chose Piangi, and so he felt life was no longer worth living… Of course I'm just making assumptions," he said thickly.

I sighed with relief. Erik had not killed M. Buquet. "And why the guise of Monsieur Anton Petit?" I asked, shifting so I could look at him better. Erik tenderly brushed a stand of hair out of my face.

"Oh, Christine, I love you so," he said brokenly. There was a long pause, and I snuggled closer to him, because there was a cold breeze blowing through the empty alleyway. "Anton Petit was my way of trying to get you to move on from me," he whispered. "He was the perfect man, wasn't he? He was polite, charming…, and handsome. He was everything any woman could ever want in a man. And so, I molded myself a mask that made me look like anyone else… Just like anyone else… And when I realized how different a man I was when I was _normal,_ I couldn't go back to being the horribly misshapen man that I truly am. So the Phantom slowly faded out of view and made room for Anton.

"I knew you could do better than me, Christine. And I thought you might find that in Anton. But you held onto me… Why did you hold onto me, when everything you could ever possibly want was in Anton? Why?" he asked tearfully, and I gently brushed his warm tears away from his face.

"Because," I said gently, "He wasn't you, Erik." I pulled myself close to him and buried my face to his chest. "I love you, Erik Girard," I said, though it was slightly muffled in his chest. Erik grasped me tighter, and we sat like that for long minutes, until we both stirred and decided that we should make our way back to the Opera house.

When we did get there, we were very cautious upon using the door that belonged to the key that Erik had given me. We went down the long tunnel and across the lake, and into his house. Needless to say, I didn't make it back to afternoon rehearsal. Erik and I sat and talked for a long while, trying to smooth things over with rational heads.

"ERIK! Damn it, what were you thinking?"

I stiffened at the voice. Nadir. He probably didn't know I was here. "I'll get it," I muttered, rolling my eyes irritably. "Nadir," I said, plastering a smile on my face. "How nice of you to drop by."

"Chris—Mademoiselle, I didn't realize that you were here…," he began.

"Obviously… Is there something that I can help you with?"

"Well, I wanted to speak with Erik," he said, shifting his wait uncomfortably.

"All right," I said, opening the door for him. "I'll make some coffee." I shut the door behind Nadir and headed to the kitchen. I popped into the den before to let Erik know who was here. "Erik, it's Nadir," I said. "I'm going to go make coffee, would you like some?" He gave me an appreciative nod, and I made a pot as quickly as I was able. I came into the room, handed each man their mug, took my cup, and sat down next to Erik on the sofa.

"So, Daroga, what brings you here?" Erik asked mildly, sipping his coffee. Nadir seemed slightly irritated.

"I had hoped to speak with you in private, Erik," he said, clearing his throat.

"Where could be more private? We're five stories underneath the Opera house, for God's sake." Erik snorted derisively, and I almost choked on my coffee because of my amusement.

"I meant alone with you," Nadir said, sighing.

"Oh. Well, anything you have to say to me, I'm sure you can say it in front of this lovely lady as well," Erik said calmly. I smiled slyly and shifted closer to Erik, looking at Nadir over the rim of my cup.

"I don't believe that the things I have to say would be appropriate for a lady's ears," he said, setting his mug down on the coffee table that was in front of him.

"Oh, please. I live at the Opera house, I seriously doubt that there is a more vulgar place in all of Paris, monsieur," I said, smiling at him wryly.

"Very well, if you insist," Nadir said. Erik and I both nodded and waited for him to continue. "Erik, I saw her slap you today," he said plainly, and Erik and I both exchanged uneasy glances. If Nadir had seen, how many others had as well? "And I cannot believe you would go so far as to create an alternate identity for yourself! Honestly, how long did you think that it could go on for? I was concerned for your safety, man! You are already suspected of the murder of Joseph Buquet," he said, glaring at us. Nadir reminded me of a mother hen. Grouchy, yes, and certainly protective of her offspring.

"But Erik didn't do it," I said, sitting up. "It was suicide."

"That very well may be, mademoiselle, but there is no proof that it was, or wasn't, him." Nadir sipped his coffee again. "And then there's the matter of you two, as well. Especially concerning Erik's past."

"Erik's told me everything," I said confidently. "We were talking about… well, everything before you came."

"Ah. I see. So then, I assume you know about Veronica?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I have no other complaints to make known."

"Daroga," Erik said, leaning forward on his knee caps. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"Why shouldn't I? Good day, mademoiselle," he said, tipping his hat in my direction before showing himself to the door.

"That was odd," I conceded.

"Yes," Erik agreed. "The Daroga is a very unusual man."

"Erik," I said cautiously. "I want to talk about the future."

**Deep stuff coming up! Woo! Hope you guys all had your q's answered.**


	26. FalseFace

**Thank you everybody for all your reviews on the last chapter! It is highly appreciated… This chapter will be short, but there will be phluph… sorta. **

"All right, Christine," Erik said, leaning forward and setting his empty mug on the table. I sighed nervously and smoothed my skirt out.

"I want a future with you, Erik, but I don't know if I can with-"

"With my face?" Erik said somberly.

"No... Without you letting me see it," I confessed. "I can't marry someone without truly knowing them."

"You've seen it already, Christine," Erik said painfully, "Twice."

"But not with your consent. I don't want to disrespect you like that again. And if you aren't ready to show me, then I'll wait, but not forever." I stared down at my skirts, and it was quiet in the house for nigh on an hour.

During that hour, Erik and I sat in silence, I in patient waiting, and he in utter turmoil. I rubbed his back gently for a time, and then I held his hand, all without reaction on his part. He just sat there somberly thinking, and digging deep within himself.

"Do it," Erik said tremulously. "Take it off, Christine," he whispered. He turned to face me very slowly, and his eyes were screwed shut. I looked at him tenderly and touched both sides of his face delicately—masked and unmasked. I found the top of the white, porcelain false-face and peeled it off gently.

My breath hitched slightly when I saw his face, but I touched the uneven terrain of his disfigurement lovingly. I was overcome with a sudden urge, and I leaned forward slowly and kissed his disfigurement in different places: his cheek bone, his temple, and just above his missing nose.

Erik began to tremble. "Oh, Christine," he murmured, "Thank you."

He hugged me for a few moments, rocking back and forth, and then sank down off the couch and onto one knee.

**Again, I'm sorry this was sooooo short, but I hope the happy/tenseness of it makes up for that… Please hit the review button, and I'd love thoughts on what you'd like the proposal to be like. Input is welcomed! And don't forget to review. The more people review, the sooner the next chapter comes out. There's a direct correlation there. And I know that more people are reading this than review. I see things. I know that there are probably about 20 people reading this story. So, if you want Erik to propose and not have it to your satisfaction, hit the review button.**


	27. A Thousand Times Over

**Thank you, reviewers! Yay for reviews! So, I'm going to make this short and sweet (the author's note, not the chapter, haha) so you can get to reading. So, here's the newest chapter!**

"_In diesen Wintertagen,_

_Wenn Licht verschleiert,_

_Lassen Sie uns in unserem Herzen tragen_

_Und zu einander bekennen_

_Was erfüllt uns mit innerem Licht._

_Es entzündet sich eine sanfte Flamme_

_Das wird weiter und weiter brennen._

_Es rankt zärtlich unsere Seelen_

_Und baut eine Brücke zwischen unserem Geist._

_Es ist unser Geheimnis verschwiegen._

_Obwohl das Rad der Zeit rollt auf,_

_Wir können kaum erwischen;_

_Geschützt vor der Welt Blendung,_

_Auf unserer Insel, lassen Sie uns widmen_

_Unsere Tage und Nächte, um unsere Liebe gesegnet."* _Erik took my hand reverently, and I looked at him, uncomprehending of what he had just sang.

"Erik, I don't—"

"In these winter days,

When light is veiled,

Let us carry in our hearts

And confess to each other

What fills us with inner light.

It ignites a gentle flame

That will burn on and on.

It tenderly entwines our souls

And builds a bridge between our spirits.

It is our hushed secret.

Though the wheel of time rolls on,

We can barely catch hold;

Sheltered from the world's glare,

On our island, let us dedicate

Our days and nights to our blessed love," he whispered, kissing my knuckles lightly.

"Oh," I murmured. "I see."

"Christine," Erik said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I know I don't have a ring, or much of anything, but I must ask: will you marry me?" I gasped. Of course I had seen it coming when he had sunk down onto one knee, but what girl isn't surprised when her man proposes?

"Oh, Erik," I murmured, sinking down off the couch so I was on my knees on the ground with him. "Yes," I breathed. "Yes, a thousand times yes!"

He kissed me, and I flung my arms over his shoulders, and pressed my hands to his face. He placed his hands on my waist gingerly, and I brought myself closer to him, but he stopped abruptly and his hands strayed from my waist, searching for something: his mask. I halted his frantic search.

"Erik, it's okay," I whispered. "You don't need to have that on all the time. If you want to wear it, fine, but I just want you to know that you don't need to wear it with me."

Erik hesitated for a split second, glancing at his mask, and left it sitting on the couch. I smiled and kissed his only slightly imperfect lips affectionately. "Erik, have I ever told you how unbelievably _wonderful_ you smell?" I giggled at the surprise that was evident on his face.

"No, I don't believe you have."

"Well, you do. It's like crushed herbs and pine needles."

"You smell like roses," was his only reply. I smiled and kissed him again. Today was a good day.

***This song was in German, and it's an actual song, and very pretty. So, if you liked the lyrics (or the meaning thereof) Youtube "Winterweihe Diana Damrau. And click on the first link. The quality isn't the best, but you'll get the gist. And, if you really liked it, it's on iTunes. Don't forget to review.**


	28. Give me that, Erik!

**Shiloh Willows, thank you for that heartwarming review! I really appreciate it. Phantom Serentiy, funnygirl00, Tbnasib, trrmo77, thank you so much for your regular reviewing.**

"Whichever one you like best, Christine," Erik said, putting a hand possessively around my waist. I leaned onto him casually, browsing the display of rings before me. We had been looking for almost an hour in about three different stores, and without even so much as any luck. Erik and I couldn't agree on it. Despite the fact that every time we walked into a store, Erik told me to buy whichever one I truly wanted, but Erik kept saying, "If I'm going to look at it for the rest of my life, Christine, I want to like it, too."

Suddenly one caught my eye. It was a white gold band, with a simple inlay, and a clear diamond in the center. "Erik, what about that one?" I questioned, drawing his attention to the ring I meant.

"No," he said flatly, and I groaned in exasperation. "Christine, if I have to look at the thing for the rest of my life—"

"I know, I know," I interrupted him, "You want to like it, too." I continued my perusal, and Erik pointed out one that he found particularly eye catching. "No." I shook my head. "I don't want to wear anything that's square." He sighed and shook his head.

"You are the pickiest person on the face of this earth," he said. I whirled around to face him, the astonishment clear on my face.

"Me? What about you? You're picky about everything, bordering on obsessive."

"No, I just happen to know exactly what I want."

"Which is why we'll never agree on a ring," I moaned, rubbing my temples.

"Perhaps I might suggest something?" the jeweler interjected quietly. "Since it seems you young people are having an issue finding one that suits both of you." I nodded, at the same time Erik shook his head.

"Yes," I said, elbowing Erik in the ribs. "Some help would be lovely." I proceeded to tell him my preferences, and Erik grudgingly told his as well.

The jeweler rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I think I might have just the one," he murmured. "One moment, and I'll bring it out." I nodded politely and whispered to Erik.

"It's worth a shot. We're not getting anywhere on our own."

"I suppose not," Erik grumbled. The older man came back a moment later with a velvety box, popping it open as he reached us.

"Is this to your liking?" he asked, glancing between Erik and I. I gasped.

"Yes," I breathed. The ring was the purest silver color I had ever seen, and the most intricate, as well. It was crafted to look like a blooming rose, with one large diamond in the center, where the heart of the flower would have been. It was laced on the sides with smaller diamonds, giving it a sparkle one could only dream of. "Oh, Erik, please tell me you like it," I pleaded with him. He peered at the ring a second longer, then glancing at the jeweler, he spoke.

"We'll take it." The jeweler smiled.

"Don't you want to know how much?"

"No," Erik said. "Christine, why don't you go outside and I'll be out in just a moment." I nodded and practically skipped out the doors. Oh, the ring was beautiful! I had fallen in love with it as soon as I'd laid eyes on it.

Erik, true to his word, was out of the jeweler's in a minute, and came to walk beside me. "It wasn't terribly expensive, was it?" I asked guiltily. I didn't want Erik to spend a small fortune on a ring.

"It doesn't matter," Erik said casually. I gave him a look of exasperation. "You wouldn't have even thought to ask if I had had the ring with me when I proposed," he said reasonably.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Well, can I at least wear it?" I asked impatiently.

"No," he said simply.

"But Erik… Why not? It's my ring!"

"Not until I give it to you," he said smugly. I growled.

"You had better give it to me soon, mister, or I'm going to be one unhappy fiancé."

"You'll get it in due time."

"Which is when, exactly?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Erik!" I shrieked in frustration. "You can't just show a girl her engagement ring, and then not give it to her! It's pure torture!"

"You could have chosen not to come, you know," he said mildly. He refused to be goaded.

"And let you pick that ugly square thing?" I snorted, "I don't think so."

"Very well, then let the matter lie, Christine," Erik said softly, and there was something in the way that he said that the made me stop and kiss him, right in the middle of the sidewalk. He kissed me back after a moment's hesitation, the broke away.

"Please, Christine, someone will see," he said sheepishly, and I laughed. I looked at Erik carefully, looping my arm through his. Erik had recently made a new mask, sine I tore the one that made him look "normal." Erik may have thought he looked normal, but I could sense all of the young ladies' lovesick stares towards him, and hateful glares at me. I chuckled privately at the thought. No matter where Erik went, or what he did, he would always have attention in some form or another.

However, he seemed perfectly content walking the streets of Paris with me, just as a normal man might. "My Opera opens in a few days time," he said quietly, and I nodded.

"Yes. Is everyone's performance up to par?" I asked cheekily. He chuckled.

"Mmh. Yes, except, perhaps, for Anton's. Would you tell him to mind his manners around you?" he asked, feigning grumpiness.

"Of course," I said. "After all, I am spoken for now." I giggled and lightly covered my mouth with my fingers. Erik smiled down at me.

"Speaking of which, you and I should get to rehearsals."

"I'm not going if you won't give me my ring."

"It's not your ring; I haven't given it to you yet."

"But you proposed, and you promised me a ring, and I want it!" I felt like a young child, but I wanted my ring!

"No." He strode off, leaving me on the sidewalk in bewilderment, and I chased after him.

"Erik, I'm going to get that ring!" And with those words, I tackled him from behind, jumping on his back and growling "savagely." Erik laughed heartily, and carried me back to the Opera Garnier, upon entering said building, there were many stares at us, and Erik put me down, blushing. "Stop blushing," I muttered discreetly. "Only one side does." Erik cleared his throat and adjusted his cufflinks in an attempt to stop the blush. I smiled at him.

"Oh, I have to go find Raoul!" I said excitedly, "And meet his fiancé. I haven't seen him in a few days! If practice weren't now, I'd search him out."

"I don't think you'll have to," Erik said, turning me around. Raoul was talking to the managers politely, and a woman was on his arm. She was the definition of beauty. Blond haired, blue eyed, and petite. Her eyes were large and round and her lips were full and a deep pink. It was clear she was from money, due to her barely proper neck line, and the expensive silk she wore in a light blue.

"Thanks, Anton," I murmured distractedly, heading toward Raoul. "Raoul." I placed my hand lightly on his back. He turned to face me, and the smile he was wearing faltered for a moment, but it was back as soon as it had disappeared.

"Christine!" His fiancé shot him a look. "I mean 'mademoiselle Daae." He cleared his throat anxiously, glancing at his intended, "How wonderful to see you again."

I smiled at him. "You as well, Raoul," I said quietly. "And who is this?" I said, turning to the young lady at his side.

"Oh, yes, how rude of me not to introduce you. Christine, this is Bethany. Bethany, this is Christine," Raoul said, smiling proudly.

I shook Bethany's hand politely. "Nice to meet you," I said, giving her a smile.

"A pleasure," she said coldly. I glanced at Raoul quizzically, and he shrugged.

"Raoul, you didn't tell me you were engaged! And especially to someone so lovely," I said, smiling at Bethany again, hoping to butter her up with flattery. She smiled smugly. Raoul smiled with embarrassment.

"Yes, well, I would have told you when I offered to take you out to lunch, but you had already made plans with Anton." I smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, Raoul. If I would have know, I would have came! Oh, did I tell you? Anton and I are engaged!" I smiled gleefully at him. Erik and I had agreed to say that I was engaged to Anton so that it didn't seem strange that my fiancé was never around, and that no one knew him.

"Really, Christine? So soon?" He looked utterly disappointed. "But you have no ring."

"Yes well, you cannot help true love, and Anton has yet to give it to me. He bought it, but he won't give it to me. It's very frustrating," I said, smiling at him.

"Excuse me, Raoul, but I must go and say hello to an old friend," Bethany said, smiling meanly. Raoul and I both watched her go, and suddenly Raoul pulled me aside earnestly.

"Chrstine! You have to save me!" he grabbed my upper arms nervously. "You have to save me from that woman!"

"What? Raoul, why? I don't understand!"

"It's an arranged marriage, Christine, and if I don't find a new fiancé soon, I'll be stuck with her for life! _For life! _Christine, save me, please."

"Raoul, I don't understand how I can help—"

"Marry me, Christine."

**Dun dun dun! Oh, whatever will Christine do? Review, and then you shall find out sooner, muahahaha!**


	29. Meg

**Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews, and as you all wished me to update ASAP, here is another one.**

"Christine, what am I to do? It's all so hopeless!" Meg wailed, and I pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back. I looked around my new dressing room. Since Carlotta had left, I had gotten her old room. Erik was currently working on getting one of his fancy-schmancy mirrors installed in here.

Meg sank back onto the luxurious divan, shaking violently. "Meg, please tell me what happened," I murmured, looking at her concernedly.

"I missed my flux, that's what happened. Marcus, I… We…" I gaped at her. Meg wouldn't, would she? I supposed she would, if Marcus threatened to leave her. "I told him, and now he's left me! Mama doesn't know yet, and she'll have a conniption fit when she does! I can't hide a baby for very long, Christine! I've run out of options, and no one will have me, and I'll be doomed to destitution for the rest of my days!"

"Oh, Meg, nothing that bad will happen. And you can always stay with Anton and I," I murmured softly.

"I couldn't do that," she said, sniffling. "I can't be a burden, so I'll end up in a whorehouse with a… bastard baby!" She started sobbing anew again and I pulled her close and rocked her back and forth.

"Meg, we'll think of something. Don't worry, I won't let anything bad happen, I promise."

I sat there and consoled Meg for most of the night, telling her everything would be all right, and that it wouldn't be nearly as hard or bad as she painted it. It would still be hard, especially if she didn't find a husband. There were very few men out there who would be willing to have her and ever fewer who were honorable. As the dawn approached, Meg ahd finally cried herself to sleep, and as she dozed off, so did I. We got a minute amount of sleep, and weren't the most jolly of people when we got up.

There was a knock at my door, and I handed Meg a tissue. "Come in," I said, glancing up to see who it was. It was Erik, and he had a bouquet of flowers, but he cleared his throat awkwardly when he saw Meg.

"Oh, Christine," she said, sitting up stiffly, "You're so lucky to have a man who loves you!" And with that, she rushed out of the room.

"Is Meg feeling well?" Erik asked, setting the flowers down on an end table.

"No… Marcus left her."

"That bastard," he muttered.

"That's precisely the issue," I said, standing up with a sigh. "Meg's pregnant."

Erik's head came up so sharply I thought he would break his neck. "What?" I nodded.

"Yes. Marcus threatened to leave if she didn't… But when she told him she was pregnant, he left."

"The poor girl…," Erik murmured, shaking his head in astonishment. "Does Madame Giry know?" I shook my head.

"Meg's afraid to tell her." Erik nodded understanding.

"And there's something else, Erik," I said sadly. He looked at me.

"Raoul… is in a bit of a situation."

"So? What does that have to do with what we're talking about?"

"It doesn't, Erik. But it directly concerns both of us. All three of us." I sighed sitting back on the divan. Erik sat in an armchair across from me, and I looked up at him. "Bethany, his fiancé… It's an arranged marriage." Erik glanced at me curiously.

"I still don't see what this has to do with—"

"Let me finish," I said. "If he doesn't find a fiancé, he'll be chained to that God awful woman for life… He asked me to marry him."

"That's absolutely out of the question, Christine. I'll not have you running off with the Vicomte simply because he asks it."

"I suppose that you're right, Erik. I just get so confused so easily. But I would like to help Raoul, if at all possible."

"I think, Christine, that the answer is staring us in the eyes," Erik said, cracking his knuckles.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking at him curiously.

"Well, Meg clearly needs a husband, and Raoul needs a wife. And Meg is a sweet girl, I'm sure they'll at least be able to tolerate one another."

"Erik! I couldn't! I'm not a matchmaker… Do you think that they'd even play along?"

"When one is desperate enough, one does drastic things, Christine," Erik said cryptically.

"Look, I'll go talk to Meg, and then I'll go find Raoul if Meg agrees to it. Thank you, dear," I said, placing a light kiss on his cheek. I exited the room, leaving him there in a hurry. I felt somewhat bad, because knowing Erik, he probably had a romantic day planned. But I had to help Meg. Or at least try.

"Meg!" I called, seeing her in the hallway, talking with her mother, who had a shocked and petrified look on her face. She turned to face me, with the look of an animal who feels as if it's about to be killed. I pulled her away from her mother, who gave me a hard look, but was soon reprimanding a ballerina for her bad form. "I think I might have a solution," I whispered.

"A solution? Christine, I'm not getting rid of the baby," she said firmly. I gave her a shocked look.

"I wasn't going to suggest that," I said hurriedly. "Raoul needs a new fiancé," I began timidly. "His current one, Bethany, isn't the most amiable of creatures. It's an arranged marriage, and he needs to find a new fiancé to get out of it. I was wondering if you might find this situation agreeable..? I mean, Meg, I'm not going to be swooning after him, I'm engaged to Anton, after all, but I think you two would get along fine."

"Oh, Christine, I don't know. Does Raoul even know who I am?" she asked nervously. I nodded.

"Yes, he knows of you. You are my best friend, dear," I chided gently. "Now, if you want to give this a try, we can go and find Raoul."

"All right, but at least let me change into something more… appropriate," she whispered, gesturing to her dancer's outfit. I nodded understanding, and Meg hurried off.

"Christine," Madame Giry said, giving me a slight wave to come over there. "Just what were you talking to my daughter about? I fully expect that you are aware of her… predicament." I nodded.

"Yes, Antoinette, I am," I said quietly. "And I believe I may have found a solution." She gave me a suspicious look.

"How? How can you have found a solution? Meg has already told me that she is keeping the child."

"Yes, I know. But Raoul needs a wife," I said, shifting my weight. She narrowed her eyes, and I quickly explained his situation.

"Yes, Raoul is a good boy," she said quietly. "If he agrees, I will not complain. But if there is a scandal because of this, I will blame you," she said. I nodded understanding. Although she had been a mother figure to me, Giry was blunt, and I liked that about her.

Meg came back a moment later. "Let's go," she said, and I nodded, taking her hand and leading her toward the stage. If Raoul was in the auditorium, we'd certainly be able to see him from the stage. Luckily for Meg and I he was. And doubly lucky, Bethany wasn't there.

"Raoul!" I called, leading Meg off the stage. He turned to me with a smile on his face.

"Christine," he whispered. "have you made you decision?" Meg was hanging back shyly, and I nodded my head.

"I have. And my answer is no," I exhaled sharply, not wanting to disappoint him. "But I do have an alternative option." He glanced at me sharply.

"Please, enlighten me," he said sarcastically. "I've done everything I can think of to try and get of this, but there isn't any way besides marriage."

"Which is exactly what I'm proposing… Only not with me." I waved Meg forward. "With Meg." Raoul seemed surprised. Pleasantly surprised. Meg was a pretty thing, not as beautiful as Bethany, but enough where a man would give her a second glance.

Meg waved shyly. "If that is acceptable to you, M. Vicomte?" she said, glancing up at him.

"Is there some sort of catch?" he asked teasingly, but upon Meg's nervous glance towards me, he frowned. "Well, is there?"

"Yes," I said dejectedly. He gave me a look that bade me continue, so I did. "Meg's pregnant," I whispered quietly. Raoul's eyebrows shot up, but he seemed to be considering this.

"From what Christine has told me, you seem like a pleasant young lady. I accept," he said nodding before leaning over and kissing Meg's hand lightly.

"I'll be seeing you at the altar, Mademoiselle Giry," he teased lightly. "And I'll be sure to pick up a ring," he promised with a wink in her direction. I smiled with relief, and Meg clutched my hand happily. As soon as Raoul was gone, she started squealing.

"Oh! Oh! I'll not be destitute! Thank you so much, Christine!" she hugged me so tightly I was having trouble breathing.

"You're welcome," I managed. "I have to go find Er—Anton."

"Did you just call your fiancé something else?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"No," I lied. She put her hands on her hips. "Yes."

"Well, I'm just glad it wasn't _my_ fiancé!" she giggled, and I laughed nervously.

"But in all seriousness, Meg, I really do have to go and find him," I said, waving as I walked away. I went up the stage's steps and turned to the stage right backstage wing, and saw Erik sipping water absently. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to face me, and he smiled.

"Christine, love, how nice of you to join me. It is dress rehearsal, after all," he smirked slightly.

"Anton," I said, laying emphasis on the word. "I had something that needed taken care of; you know that."

"Ah, yes. And how did that go?" he asked, handing me a glass.

"Very well, thank you. They've agreed."

Suddenly little Jammes, the little frail dancer that always reminded me of a lily, said, "Did you hear? The Vicomte has broken it off with Bethany and is engaged to Meg? It's quite scandalous!"

"Jammes!" I said sharply. "You should not talk about our esteemed patron that way," I chided. "You don't know his circumstances." Jammes huffed and scampered away, presumably to tell others this "scandalous" news.

"You." The comment was directed towards me, that was clear enough, but the voice was unfamiliar, so I turned to face its speaker. It was Bethany, and before I could even blinked, she had slapped my so hard that I tumbled back into Erik.

**Review. It spurs me on. Even if it's just a smiley face, like this :). Review, pretty please with a cherry on top! It makes me happy, and I await anxiously. For what is a writer without an audience? Someone who makes up stories and tells them to themselves, that what.**


	30. Again

**Everyone, thank you so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it. For some reason, I just remembered how I found ff… I was reading a POTO book, and I go tto the end of it, and the author was giving acknowledgments and stuff, and she mentioned that she first published her sotry on , and I remember thinking. Oh my God! There's actually a website where you can read stories for free? I gotta check this out! So, now that you all know that, I would guess that you wanna read the new chapter… I'll not keep you any longer.**

I bumped into Erik, and his glass spilled water, and I could feel it trackling down my back. "Um, excuse me?" I asked Bethany, trying to keep my composure. I could hear Erik breathing through his nostrils, trying to keep calm. There wasn't much he could do since Bethany was a lady, and most probably nobility.

"You took my fiancé from me!" Bethany said in a low voice.

"What? I did no such thing. I'm engaged to Anton," I said, patting Erik on the shoulder in an attempt to calm him some.

"No, but you set that whore up with him!" Bethany shrieked, and I winced at the sound. "Oh, yes, I know her story, and unless you convince Raoul to leave her, I'll be spreading it around."

"You know nothing about Meg," I growled.

"Don't I?" she laughed viciously. "I know enough about her because she was courting my brother." I staggered. What? Meg was dating _her _brother? No wonder he did the things he did.

"Well, then we know who to blame, don't we?" I spat back. I glanced around for Meg, and I could see her pressing herself into Raoul because of the embarrassment. I took a deep breath. "This isn't the time or place for this, Bethany. We have a dress rehearsal to do," I lifted my chin. I was trying to save Meg some of her dignity. Luckily only a few nearby people were listening, aside from Meg and Raoul.

"I don't' care about the dress rehearsal! I want my fiancé back!" she stomped her foot.

"Well, you can't have him," I said blatantly, crossing my arms. Bethany reached forward quick as a flash and slapped my again. I was so angry there was probably steam rising out of my head.

"Mademoisell, you will not touch my fiancé!" Erik roared, stepping forward, but I pressed him back.

"Stop it, Erik!" I said. He gave me a look of utter horror, and I realized my mistake. I had to act fast and draw everyone's attention to something else. I was going to regret doing this, I knew, but it had to be done. Something far more scandalous than me calling my fiancé another name.

I lashed out at Bethany, slashing my long nails across her perfect cheek. "Let's see you find a husband with that, bitch," I said smugly. Bethany just stared at me in horror. There were three long, thin cuts across her left cheek. No, my nails weren't all that sharp, but Bethany's skin was thin and frail, and she cut easily.

I wiped the blood off my nails and looked around the stage. Every single pair of eyes was on me. "You'll pay for that, Christine. I swear you will," Bethany said, storming off the stage an out of the auditorium. As soon as she was gone, a buzz of conversation rose up. Meg and Raoul approached Erik and I. meg had a grateful smile on her face, and Raoul looking perplexed.

"If I could have a word with you, _Monsieur Petit, _I would be most grateful," Raoul said in an undertone. Erik nodded silently, and the two men walked away. Meg hugged me and pulled away for a moment.

"Thank you, Christine, for standing up for me," she said giving me a grateful look.

"Meg, you would have done the same for me. It's what friends and surrogate sisters are for, no?" I smiled and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

"Anton… isn't really Anton, is he?" she asked quietly. I sighed and shook my head. "Then who is he?" she asked excitedly. "You've had so many men after you, Christine, it's baffling!"

"Meg, I've only had two, and you got one," I said lightly, "He's my teacher."

"The man from the train station all that time ago? Christine he's so _handsome!" _Meg squealed, and I laughed heartily.

"Yes, he really is, isn't he?" I smiled affectionately at Erik, who was, with Raoul, making his way back. "Raoul isn't too bad, either," I acknowledged. Meg giggled.

"Oh, tell me about it!" We both laughed.

"Tell you about what, Meg?" Raoul asked pleasantly.

"Oh, just how handsome you are," she said, smiling up at him. My, my, my. She had gotten over Marcus soon enough. Erik discreetly made a gesture, and we both faded out of the conversation.

"What is it, dear?" I asked, looping my arm through his.

"Raoul knows," he said flatly. I paled.

"He knows?"

"He knows. And he said if I ever break your heart, he's going to come after me himself and break mine… But in a more literal sense." I couldn't help but laugh.

"Please, when we were little, Raoul couldn't even bring himself to kill a spider!" I laughed, bending over.

"Christine, he wasn't bluffing," Erik said seriously.

"Oh, I'm sure he wasn't, but oh! Ha-ha-ha-ha!" I couldn't help it; I found it so incredibly funny for some reason.

"Christine, I have a feeling that we should get back to rehearsal." Erik was _not_ amused by my amusement.

Rehearsal went well. Everyone had performed flawlessly, and it was expected to go well opening night. After rehearsal was over, Erik and I decided to go for a walk in the park. The sun was setting, and it wasn't too cool out yet, and there was an occasionally chirping of a bird in a nearby tree. We rounded a bend that led to a grove of trees, and Erik deviated off the path, and I followed wordlessly, albeit very curiously. When we arrived in said grove of trees, I was pleased to see a picnic basket and two glasses of white wine sitting on the ground, along with a white picnic basket.

"Erik, what's all this?" I asked, smiling at him before planting a kiss on his lips. "It's wonderful, thank you."

"Oh, my dear, you haven't seen the half of it yet," he said, smiling slyly at me. I gave him a demure glance.

"Oh, haven't I?" I questioned, draping my arms over his shoulders. "Dance with me?" I asked.

"Mmh," was his only reply, and we swayed gently back and forth for a little while before Erik cleared his throat. "Wine?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Wine would be wonderful." I sat down on the blanket, and Erik and I talked for some time, and he suddenly seemed to get very nervous.

"Christine, I love you," he said, looking up at me.

"I love you too," I said, giving him a warm smile. He pulled out a velvet box. Not just any velvet box, I realized. _The_ velvet box.

"Christine, marry me?" I smiled at him, chuckling slightly.

"Erik, as flattered as I am by your offer, you've already asked, and I've already said yes."

"Christine, would you just answer the question, please?" Erik asked in a slightly annoyed tone and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, Erik, of course I'll marry you," I said, smiling at him. He slipped the ring onto my finger. It was a perfect fit, and I admired the way it looked on my finger. "I love you, Erik Girard," I said, and leaned in to give him a kiss in the moonlight.

**Yay for (another) proposal! Erik's opera will be the next chapter, and we all know what **_**that**_** means, don't we? If you don't, I advise you to watch the play (which I haven't, ironically) or the movie. Or read the book, haha. I love you, people who review. And also, yay for 30 chapters! Yaaaaaaaayyy! (Insert Kermit the frog here, please!)**


	31. Collapse

**So, this story has come to a close. I'm sorry I didn't give you a longer notice, but I figured since the book, and the play all pretty much ended with the chandelier crash, I might as well end there, too. So, this is the last chapter… I must say, I'm rather sad to put an end to this story, but all good things must come to an end, I suppose. So, without further ado, I give you "Collapse."**

_"Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no return..."_ It was opening night, and Erik and I were clinging to each other onstage, letting the music trail off before we slowly. I turned to face him, and sang my part as demurely as a mouse.

_"Alone in the night, as cold as the stars. You like the dawn, creep into my heart. All is insignificant compared to thee, and I cannot go a day without your touch."_ I gently touched Erik's face, and I could hear his intense breathing.

_"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go, too! Christine, that's all I ask of—" _

There was a scream amongst the audience, and I frantically glanced at Erik's mask, but the false skin was still in place. Suddenly Erik pulled me close to him, shouting, "Everyone get out! Out, I say!" his foot beat a rapid tattoo on the stage, and suddenly, I heard it: the great groaning of the chandelier. It was coming down! But how?

I didn't have time to think, because very soon I was falling, still clinging to Erik, and I landed on something soft.

"Erik, what's going on? Where are we?"

"Beneath the stage in the first level of cellars, but there's no time," he said, dragging me forward. I couldn't see, I was just following Erik blindly through the catacombs.

Very soon we reached Erik's house by the lake.

"Why here?" I asked stupidly, but I was going into a state of shock, my wits were collapsing one by one. "Erik, I don't understand!" I said hysterically. "Please, help me understand! I'm so confused!"

Erik stared at me for a moment, and then his arms were around me, and I started to sob fretfully.

"Everything will be all right, love," Erik murmured, kissing the top of my head. "I just need to grab a few things, and then we'll be out. Just stay here." As if I were capable of doing anything else.

Erik came back a minute later, a ream of sheet music under his arm, and his violin in hand. We studied each other for a moment, and then rushed into action. "You have your key, I assume?" Erik asked as we headed down another unfamiliar tunnel. I nodded.

"Yes, I never take it off." Erik just nodded and pulled me farther along. "What about everything else?" I murmured.

"It's not important, Christine," Erik said sharply.

We soon reached the door, and I fumbled with it, and finally got the door open with some effort.

There were gobs of people out in the street, and I quickly spotted Meg and Raoul, and we met after a long struggle though the crowd.

"Christine! I thought you didn't make it out!" Meg said, throwing her arms around me. "Where did you come from?" I hugged her lightly and eyed her carefully. "I… Daddy!" I was suddenly stricken with panic—the only photograph I had of Daddy was in my dressing room. "I have to go get him!" Of course, I wasn't thinking rationally, but I didn't know that at the time.

"Christine, no!" Erik pulled me to his chest, and I strained against him. "No." I struggled vainly before I gave up and slumped into his arms, crying. The only material thing that I had left of my father was gone forever. I was devastated. Erik gently set me down on the curb side, murmuring soft words in my ear. "Don't worry, love, all will be well. All will be well." I nodded and buried my head in his chest. Someone approached us and I looked up bleary eyed.

"Are you Anton Petit?" It was an officer, and Erik nodded.

"Yes, sir, that is me."

"Would you care to give your account of what happened?" I felt Erik nod and he launched into what happened.

"I was onstage performing, it was the opening night for this opera, and suddenly someone screamed. I glanced around, and the ceiling around the chandelier was cracking and crumbling. I screamed for everyone to get out as quickly as possible, and then I led Christine, my fiancé," here he gestured to me, "off stage, and we made it out safely."

"Several people have claimed to have seen you falling through the stage, Monsieur Petit. Is this true?" Erik shook his head.

"No, monsieur. As I said, I led Christine off the stage as quickly and safely as possible out of the building. Although, there have been sightings of the Opera's ghost; perhaps that was he." The police officer scoffed.

"Not likely, since there aren't such things as ghosts," he waved the comment away.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, monsieur," Erik said cryptically before the police officer walked away. I turned about, hearing a cracking noise behind me, and I watched in horror as the flames devoured my beloved Opera house. The support beams were failing, and the once magnificent building began to collapse in on itself. Erik pulled me close, and we sat stoically, watching our home disintegrate before our eyes.

**Now, before all of you reviewers give me grief about how I ended this story, I will say that I will probably be writing a sequel. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll definitely be writing a sequel, and it'll include E/C wedding, etc. So, since this is the last chapter, I expect you to review. So please review.**


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